The Binding Alchemist's Gift
by kgrieser93
Summary: The Binding Alchemist has a gift for Edward, but can he survive it? Can he stop the vicious plot that threatens all the alchemists in Amestris before its too late?
1. In which a plot is hatched

**Story Title: The Binding Alchemist's Gift.**

Info: Though Yaoi is great, I love friendship and UST more, and I think it adds more depth to characters. So the characters probably won't decide to have lots of unrestrained sex, though they may fall in love. This follows the Manga/Brotherhood and takes place three years after the series ending.

Rating M: So that I can curse in Ed's name to my heart's content. And for mentions of drugs and illegal activities later. Plus violence. Lots of violence.

Author's Note: So this is my very first fanfic. None of the FMA characters but all roughness and stupid mistakes are mine. I've always been one of those people that had plenty of stories in my head, but never had the desire to put it on paper. This one kept me up at night and demanded that I branch out and give it the love it hopefully deserves. Writing like this is a new experience for me, but I'm loving it so far.

TwinkieHunt: You are my first follower ever! Thank you!

**Chapter 1: In which a plot is hatched and Roy has coffee withdrawal.**

It was one of those nights where the darkness was so dense it seemed to swallow everything around it. High walls choked off the light from the surrounding city. The moon was nothing more than a sliver, teasing more than helping. Amestris Western Prison had a reputation that prisoners went missing to fates rumored worse than death, and screams were supposedly heard from the lower levels, screams that spoke of unbearable tortures.

Secretary Katrin Colman was afraid of this place. The way the walls seemed to suck the warmth from her skin, and the way the long narrow hallways made the wind howl and whistle; it was creepy. However, Miss Colman had worked her way up through the ranks of power. As a woman and as non-military personnel, the climb had been difficult, full of taunts, jabs, and setbacks. She was not about to be that terrified woman who could not handle what the men could.

That did not stop her from asking with as neutral a voice as possible, "Sir, May I ask what our purpose here is?" She was speaking to Councilor Bernhard Bertram, her boss and the most powerful person in West City after the fall of several high profile military heads during the Promised Day incident. Bertram was on the City Council, as well as a civilian government advisory board, and unofficial head of the Intelligence Department. A branch that had been founded by him a few years ago, associated with but not directly part of the military, it had the benefit of less oversight than anything the military could produce. However, just because Colman was Bertram's most trusted secretary, did not mean that she knew everything about him. Most troublingly, he had become more secretive since the Promised Day, spending unusual amounts of time in the library and locked away in his office.

Bertram was currently chewing on the edge of a pen, a habit his Secretary had been trying to cure him of for years. At her voice, he looked up from his feet and smiled back at her, "You'll see," he said. He then looked pointedly at the guards who were leading them down the hallway. Colman sighed. The benefit of being the secretary to the nation's most paranoid man was that you gained a lot of patience with being in the dark.

They continued down several long corridors until they came to a wing labeled A-1. Seeing that, Colman's apprehension grew. Everyone knew that A-1 was the high security alchemy wing, where the most depraved and dangerous souls were held. Since the upheaval in central three years ago, it was said that wing had grown so full, that they did not have enough special anti-alchemy cells to contain all the people locked up in there. It was also said that it was only a matter of time until there was a mass breakout, and the citizens of West City would be the ones to suffer the consequences.

"All right, Bertram said briskly, startling Colman from her thoughts, "I would like you all to wait at the end of the hall for me please." The guards hesitated before moving away, and Colman started to follow, only to be touched lightly on the shoulder by Bertram. "You may stay. I want you to record our meeting with Major Schmidt."

They entered the cell through heavy wooden doors, the first organic thing she had seen since entering the prison. Bertram noticed her looking at it and remarked, "Much of the cell structures here are made with nonconductive and nonmetallic material. A lot of alchemy uses metals as a base, and this is just one more precaution." His eyes narrowed, "Isn't that right, Mister Schmidt."

Katrin looked deeper in the cell. A man was tied to the back wall with strange shackles. There was a stiff board preventing him access to the wall and the chains were too short for him to reach the floor. His arms just dangled there awkwardly. The whole place was sour smelling, and she realized the shackles kept him on his knees, leaving the horrible implications of how the man went to the bathroom.

"Another one sent here to torture me with his boorish wit," the man spoke with a slow drawl, his eyes sharp and glinting in the darkness, "Will my torment never end?"

Rather than focusing on the prisoner, Bertram was looking at his Secretary. She met his eyes, confused until she realized he was motioning toward her notebook. "Oh, right," she replied, her face turning beet red.

"Thank you, Miss Colman," Bertram answered calmly, either not noticing or doing a good job at pretending not to notice her full blush. Katrin wished he had not used her name in front of the alchemist prisoner. She would swear the man was now eyeballing her wickedly. Writing furiously in her notebook, her thoughts turned dark. She wouldn't put it past him to make a Miss Colman alchemy voodoo doll or something equally horrifying after they left.

The prisoner stretched, pulling a bit at his shackles. "As you can see," the man said, speaking in a low but clear tone, "I'm terribly busy here, so please, make it quick." The way he enunciated, it was as if each word cut through her chest, sharp and frightening. She couldn't help but give him her full attention.

"Good," Bertram replied, apparently not afraid, "I need information of a special sort and I think you're just the person to give it to me." _Information? That's what they were here for? What kind of information could a prisoner who had been locked up away in solitary from the public for three years even have? _

The Prisoner was looking Bertram calculatingly. "I don't give information for free," he said with distain.

Bertram answered smoothly, "Nor did I expect you to." He smiled, his own face calculating. "If you can give me what I want," he said, "Then I too will give you what you most want: The chance to practice alchemy again before it's too late." Seeing the prisoner's skeptical face, he added, "And not just any alchemy, I assure you that this will be your masterpiece."

The man lifted his nose in the air and spat, "Bah, what do you know of masterpieces?"

Bertram's gaze was shrewd as he answered, "Well, I know one when I see it. For example, The Promised Day. The countrywide transmutation circle. That was a masterpiece, was it not, Major Schmidt?"

The prisoner's eyes widened in a reaction that he quickly his behind his bored mask. "Yes," replied Schmidt, slowly, "I suppose it was." Colman was shocked. _Did all of this lead back to the Promised Day? What exactly was Bertram investigating?_ She frowned. It was common knowledge that Bertram didn't trust the state alchemy program, especially since the attempted Coup. He had introduced several pieces of legislation endeavoring to curb the power of the program, to no avail. _Does he finally have proof that the State Alchemists were engaged as a group? _Roy Mustang was the highest-ranking member of the state alchemists at the moment, and he had been directly involved in the incident. That was telling. However, being involved was different from being culprit. Brigadier General Mustang had come out a hero of the people during the attempted Coup d'état, and Bertram would have to step carefully if he wanted to accuse him. _But, Bertram also said he would let Schmidt practice his alchemy. Was it just a ploy to get the man to talk or was it something more?_

"I want to understand what gives an alchemist his power, and I want to know how exactly Edward Elric and Roy Mustang were involved in the Promised Day" Bertram started.

"Everyone knows where Alchemists get their power." Schmidt said with a roll of his eyes. "The power comes from the circle, the direction from the lines, and the alchemist's ability to force his will." The alchemist was starting to look bored again; he had the gall to twiddle his thumbs. Despite herself, Colman had to agree. That was pretty basic stuff, even for a non-alchemist.

"I know that!" The force of the Secretary's voice stopped Schmidt in his tracks. "But it's not that simple, is it, Major Schmidt? There is so much more to it." Bertram was watching the alchemist expectantly now, allowing the silence to grow longer and more uncomfortable.

Schmidt finally answered, however, he chose to focus on the second question, "Roy Mustang and Edward Elric were integral to the success of the Promised Day plot. Of that, I am certain." There was a deep intake of breath from Bertram, but he did not interrupt. The alchemist continued, "You might say that they had to sacrifice something in order for the transmutation to succeed."

"And they refused to make this sacrifice?" Bertram questioned.

"Obviously," answered Schmidt, "They don't call it the failed Promise Day for nothing."

Colman did not really like where this conversation was heading. Bertram was trembling, and she was forcibly reminded of how many days he had spent cooped up in his office, how many nights he had stayed later that his colleges, and how driven, close to mania at times he seemed. His eyes were so bloodshot. But, of course, she didn't have the power to stop him. She could only stand here and dutifully take notes.

"Do you have proof that they were involved in the Coup d'état?" Bertram asked.

Schmidt snorted and gave Bertram a condescending look. "If I did," he said, "I would have given up such information for a better damned cell. Not waited around on your lovely visit."

Schmidt abruptly changed the subject, "Alchemy is broken down into three steps, right?" Not waiting for Bertram's answer, he continued, "Understanding, deconstruction, and reconstruction, the three bases of any transmutation. However, think about it; the elements, broken down, combined, are more complicated that we could ever imagine. Alchemists devote their entire lives to understanding, but the act itself should be impossible."

"Where are you going with this," Bertram asked warily.

Schmidt replied with a knowing smile. "You asked for the source of alchemist's power. It takes more than intellectual knowledge of an element." His grin seemed to engulf his entire face. Katrin wanted to shrink back from it. "What it takes, is a sense of the Truth, the truth of an element, a primordial ability to understand the connections of the world, to see patterns, and to see where and how things can change." He sat back on his heels. "Of course it's not that easy. Alchemists must still hone this ability, still train for years and years, and some do, only realizing at the end of the journey that they do not have the talent for it."

"The point, Schmidt?"

Katrin had the sudden strange urge to call out to her boss, to warn him of some terrible danger. However, she forced that panic down, scolding herself. This was by far the creepiest man she had ever met, but he was chained to the wall. What would Councilor Bertram think if his secretary had a sudden panic attack while on the job? He would think it was time for a new secretary and she could not afford that.

"The point, Mister Bertram," Schmidt said, standing as far up on his heels as he could, "is that you came to me, knowing my particular alchemy talents, wondering if I knew a way to control alchemists, to use the art itself to curb the people who would abuse it. The people you still desperately need, if the intelligence reports out of Drachma are to be believed. You want an elegant and daring solution to your problem." Schmidt sat back down with such suddenness that Katrin jumped a bit in her skin. "And of course, you knew I would jump at the opportunity, anything to get out of this jail cell, even betraying my own kind." He didn't seem the least bit sorry about that last part. His grin was still wide and toothy, like a wolf in Katrin's opinion.

She turned to watch Bertram's reaction. Throughout this little interview he had been fairly collected, only betraying the slightest signs of his excitement. Now, his eyes were narrow, his mouth working. She had known him long enough to know that this was his thinking face, the face he made when he was going over every angle.

"Well," he finally said, "I guess we have a deal."

"Wait." Schmidt uttered. He smirked when Bertram glared at him. "I'll need to see him personally."

"Who personally?" said Bertram with impatience.

"The Fullmetal. You know him. The youngest alchemist to ever pass the state alchemist exam, hero of the East, great sacrifice of the Promised Day, missing two limbs, well, one now if the rumors are true, a bit on the short side, and—the only alchemist to ever lose his ability to transmute. As I was saying earlier, you do not just lose your ability to sense the great Truth. _He_ represents the key."

Katrin thought for sure Bertram would refuse the alchemist. She still wasn't sure about his abilities, but she doubted seeing another alchemist, even one who had apparently lost his alchemy, would help this man replicate that.

"You'll get him," was all Bertram said as they turned to leave, though Katrin heard the alchemist's faint reply in the background.

"Good," he whispered.

_A deal with the devil is never a good idea_ thought Katrin had as she and Bertram walked out of the prison together, accompanied again by guards.

()()()()

Roy Mustang frowned at the label on the report that had just been dropped in his lap. "Lieutenant!"

"Sir?" Hawkeye's voiced echoed from the filing cabinet.

"Why do I have a damage report out of West City?" The Brigadier General shouted forcefully, "Not that West City isn't a wonderful place, especially if the new narcotic reports are to be believed, but last I checked our jurisdiction extended over the Eastern Area, not West."

Truth be told, Roy was feeling rather put out this morning. It was one of those mornings where it was almost better to call it quits rather than face another thing blow up in his face. In the case of the two Ishbalan police skirmishes, that was a bit too literal. Even worse, Havoc drank the entire coffee pot plus the emergency stash this morning while Mustang was away dealing with the police investigations looking for more bombs. Apparently, he was trying to deal with one addiction by replacing it with a second.

To top it all off, since last week Scar had decided this would be a great time for a vacation. Oh, he hadn't called it that; it was soul searching or some crap like that. However, if Roy had decided, that what he needed right now was an indefinite leave to freaking soul search, Hawkeye would shoot him into yesterday. Mustang felt like he had been reduced to being the brunt of everyone's anger, from the Ishbalans, to the military heads above him, to the average citizens in East, none of whom wanted to cooperate with the Ishbalan reintegration program. Never in his life had he felt more strangled, and never so at a loss for hope at his dream of climbing the ranks.

His lieutenant walked past, gave him a look that said the lack of coffee had addled his brains, and sighed heavily, "Reading past the cover sheet might help, Sir." Roy glared at her, but it was all bark and no bite.

Roy groaned a bit more loudly than was strictly necessary and started to read.

()()()()

(Twenty minutes later)

What do you mean Ed is gone? And why didn't I know about it?" Roy was fuming, a state that surprisingly he did not find himself in very frequently.

"It was supposed to be surprise," Breda started, but the Colonel interrupted again.

"Lieutenant Breda, I swear-"

Hawkeye's voice cut across them all, "For the love of God, Falman, please go get coffee. I expect it here _five minutes ago_." She turned to glare at Mustang after Falman scampered off looking relieved to be out of the line of fire.

Breda continued, a bit pastier than usual, "A surprise _for_ Ed, not about him. Alphonse didn't want anyone to know. Ed's been in Creta, so we sent orders calling him back, but he disappeared in West City, right after several explosions." Roy mentally swore. Only Ed could fuck up a simple summons.

"So wait, go back," Roy started, "What was the surprise from Alphonse?"

"That's the least of our problems right now, Sir," Breda said, looking a touch guilty.

"Yeah, the bigger is how an order went out without me signing it. I do actually read them you know- mostly." Roy glared and Breda gulped.

"Yeah," Breda stammered hurriedly, "Al wants to propose, you know, marriage."

"Why?" Roy asked, "Would Al propose to Ed? That's just sick."

"Are you serious, Sir?"

"No." Roy ran his fingers through his hair. He was glad the Lieutenant had sent for coffee. "Just let me think for a minute. So Ed is in Creta, doing God knows what, Alphonse wants to tell him in person about his marriage proposal, so we get in the middle, a place we have no business being by the way, and you guys send a fake summons to Ed, who isn't even on active duty. He decides to follow orders for once in his sorry life, and somewhere along the way,"

"West City, Sir," Breda provided helpfully.

"Right, in West City someone blows up a sewer line and the next three days Ed doesn't phone his usual check in to his girlfriend, what's her name?"

"Winry, Sir."

"Uh huh, doesn't phone Winry. She asks around and discovers he was spotted near the crime scene and hasn't been seen since. That about sum it up?"

Breda frowned thoughtfully and said, "Yes, Sir."

"Jesus Christ and a bucket of chicken."

A minute later, the fresh aroma of coffee announced the return of Falman. Roy declared, "Thank God.", and then he called, "Havoc!"

"Ye-Yes, Boss." Havoc seemed a bit jumpier than usual.

"Ed checks in with you too. Did he sound in anyway unusual during his last phone call?"

"No Sir." Havoc was having trouble standing at attention. His fingers and legs kept twitching, however he spoke steadily, if a bit more quickly than normal, "He complained about the necessity of checking in, said he wasn't a fucking child, his words not mine, yada yada, same old same old." Havoc frowned and then added, "But Sir, I don't think he would go without calling Winry, not on purpose anyway. Last time she ripped him a new one so bad he had a black eye for a week. He promised."

"Hmn," Roy answered, "Okay, Falman."

"Yes, Sir."

"This coffee is terrible."

"I apologize, Sir."

Roy waved his hand, "Never mind, get in touch with the chief of police in West. File a missing persons report. For all we know he's been missing for over three days now." He turned to face his Lieutenant. "Hawkeye, you have contacts in West City, right?"

"I can ask Lieutenant Chrischa, and Sergeant Winchester, Sir."

"Do it," he ordered.

Roy was trying put on a mask of ease, but inside he was truly worried. It was one thing for Edward to go missing back when he was a state alchemist. That had been known to happen on a regular basis and Roy had always trusted him to take care of himself. But now, now he was defenseless in the worst way. He had grown up depending on alchemy. Did he even know any survival techniques that did not involve a blue spark of light? In addition, there had been troubling reports in West. Reports of a new purified form of the drug called Speed. It was just like Ed to get involved in a fight with some kind of drug runner.

The report said that though there had been several explosions, not much property damage had been reported, and all the rubble was sifted through. That meant he was not lying trapped somewhere under debris. Something else had happened, and Mustang would get to the bottom of it, even if he had to make some additions to the damage report.

He suddenly called out, "Lieutenant, get me an excuse to visit West City. I hear the weather's great this time of year."

She replied softly, "Yes, Sir. I hear it is."

()()()()

Ed was enjoying the most beautiful weather he had seen in a long time. He was sitting in an outdoor café on the bank of the river that ran through West City. His train did not leave until tomorrow and he'd already booked a hotel room near the station. He sat people watching and letting his thoughts wander.

Creta had been interesting, but it wasn't exactly what he had been looking for. They had an underlying suspicion of alchemy and science, and instead put all their faith in the church. Outsiders were treated with open hostility and suspicion. Even if he hadn't gotten the summons from Alphonse through Mustang's men, he would have come back just to visit Winry and have an excuse to leave that awful country. He stretched out his automail leg, letting it soak up warmth through his black pants. Another terrible thing about Creta was all the rain. Endless freaking rain.

If Al had been there, he might have sat at the Café all afternoon, not even necessarily talking, but enjoying the companionable silence. However, Edward had discovered another thing in Creta; he did not like to be alone. He missed Al with a deep ache in his heart that no amount of idle chitchat, new acquaintances, or travel companions could assuage. It was a restlessness and an empty feeling that plagued his every step. He would see something funny and turn to try to make Al laugh, only to realize that his brother wasn't there. He knew it was pathetic to need someone that much, but even with his formidable willpower, he could not seem to let his need for his brother go.

_Al has a life for himself now. He's getting married. To Mei_. It was supposed to be a secret, but Havoc was terrible at keeping secrets and he had pretty much given it away in their last phone conversation. _Married._ Why had Al grown up so easily, yet here Ed sat, guiltily wishing his brother still needed him like he had when he was still a suit of armor. _You're despicable, Ed_.

Ed was distracted by a hawker on the other side of the street, selling what looked like discount haircuts and beard trims. Ed's mane hung down his back longer and thicker than ever. His mother had always been the one to cut it. She had loved his hair long, unlike Al's, which had always been shorter.

_It's because you're the one that looks like dad. Not Al_.

When she died, he refused to let anyone cut it. It would have been as if he was replacing her, letting someone else enter her domain. It was a long time before he let Teacher cut his hair, and later his brother when he was back to normal, but he still kept it long.

_Quit brooding. It's a waste of time and disgusting. _

Thinking of Teacher had made his inner voice sound like her, bossy and to the point. _Afterall, you've still got two good legs. Get up Edward_.

He stood suddenly, startling several pigeons. Shoving a wad of cash on the table, he walked steadily to the barber, reveling in the lack of pain in his leg that also spelled a lack of rain. Smiling his most charming smile, he gestured to the woman waiting in the entranceway.

"I'd like a haircut,' he pronounced.

She grinned at him, "Then you've come to the right place." He realized she was staring rather intensely at his hair.

He was soon surrounded by not one but several people, both men and women. They gasped and awed, and all attempted to touch his hair. How often did he cut it? What shampoo? It was so soft, was he sure about cutting it all off? Could they have the leavings?

Just when he was about to burst, the one in charge, a burly man with rough callused hands, shooed the others away with a lingering glare.

"Sorry 'bout that," he grunted. Ed tried to sit patiently while he watched bits of his hair fall to the floor, but it was difficult. He saw through the mirror that a small group of people were gathering near the fountain outside the shop. They were casting furtive glances, and without meaning to, Ed made to stand up.

"Don't." The barber placed a rough hand on Ed's back. "You don't wanna mess with those people. They're the Binding Man's." He shot Ed a knowing look as if that should explain everything.

"I don't understand," Ed said truthfully.

The barber grunted. "You must be a newcomer then. They're drug runners. _Powerful_. You know, it's sad to see what this city is coming to."

A long time ago, Ed might have stood up anyway, but he had done a lot of growing up since the days with Al, so instead he filed the information away. He would give it to Roy when he saw him in East. He watched as the group exchanged something among themselves and then left. Frowning, Ed decided he would definitely talk to Roy about this. Something wasn't right here.

An hour later Ed walked out of the hairdresser, feeling a hundred percent lighter. He kept reaching up to touch what was left, awed by the simple lack. It was still long, but above his shoulders, and it framed his face. Turning into an alleyway he was sure was a shortcut to the hotel, he laughed to himself, looking forward to Al's face when he saw Ed in Risembool.

It was sudden, the sense that came over him. He froze, his nose twitching. Spinning around, his arm slammed against another man's hand as he was reaching for Ed, a strange cloth in his hand. Ed struggled to keep the cloth away from his face, kneeing his attacker in the stomach. That gave him enough leverage to push away, and he turned and ran, streaking down the alleyway. Usually, he wouldn't have hesitated to stand and fight, but he didn't have any weapons on him, only his fists. In addition, these were trained professionals judging by the way the man had reacted when Ed kneed him. The man was backing up and speaking in a walky-talky for help.

_Military trianed. That means they'll have major back up._

_Shit. _He somehow turned the wrong way. He was standing in an even narrower alleyway that dead-ended in a seedy looking bar already full even though it was late afternoon. At least full meant they probably wouldn't come at him head on again. Not with witnesses.

Ed turned his brain working quickly. "Can I have an empty liquor bottle?" Ed pleaded with the one of the drunks standing outside.

Catching it as the bottle was tossed over to him, Ed bent down, pulling at the wires of the beat-up moped parked in front of the bar. It was lucky the man had stopped to call for back up, but he knew they weren't on him only because they were going about it methodically now, seeking to trap him somewhere less public. He was frantic to finish this before they found him again.

He ignored the, "Hey, What the hell do you think you're doing, Mister?" and finally managed to tap the gasline of the moped.

A few minutes later Ed was climbing up on the roof, precariously balancing on slippery shingles. Hearing a grunt, he turned to see one of the attackers had climbed up on the roof behind him. Grinning, Ed yelled, "Have a drink you Bastard!" while tossing the flaming bottle at his attacker. It missed and he watched as it tumbled to the ground, finally rolling into a manhole.

"Oh shit." Ed spun and attempted to flee again, but then all hell broke loose as a huge shockwave blasted him off his feet, sending him spiraling down towards the street.

His vision was shaking and spinning, and he desperately tried to climb to his feet, only to end up sideways with his right leg splayed at an angle. Had to land on the real one, he mused vaguely.

"Oh my God!" He could hear shouts and screams up and down the alleyway. "I think it's the sewer line!" "Watch out it could blow again!"

Well, part of his plan had worked anyway, to draw enough attention to himself that the attackers would back off for fear of public awareness. His head was still muzzy when he felt someone pick him up, cradling him. _They're bringing me to the hospital_.

It was only later when he woke up in the dark cell, his leg and head bandaged, but his arms shackled to the wall, that he realized it hadn't been a good samaritan that had rescued him, but his unknown attackers.

()()()()

**Endnote: Someone might kill me for cutting Ed's hair, but I seriously doubt he went through his entire life with his hair the same length. To me the more serious stuff got in the series, the more likely he was to wear it up. It's been three years in my fic, and I feel like a lot of times when we have a major life changes, our hair style reflects that. So it did. But don't worry, It'll grow back. Probably.**


	2. In which Roy attempts to be sneaky

**Author's Note: This fic has been heavily revised since I first posted it, so watch out for that. It's my first fanfic, all mistakes are mine, and all characters from FMA are sadly not. If you want to beta a newb, I'm looking for help turning my mess into something workable. :) **

**Rated M for creepy alchemists and the F word.**

**Chapter 2: In which Ed has a hard time adjusting to prison life, and Roy does Prison Break the wrong way.**

Katrin Colman was driving slowly through the crowded streets of West City. It was a Friday night and the streets were bustling. Much of West was still built with narrow alleyways and streets, remnants of the times before Automobiles. Councilor Bertram was in the seat behind her, scribbling on a spare sheet of paper and frowning to himself.

"Can I ask you something?" Katrin probed, hating the way her voice wavered.

Bertram replied curtly, "You just did." Huffing, Katrin tried to give him an offended glare through the mirror but he did not bother to look up from his paper. Since when had he been so cold?

She tried again. "If I may ask, Sir, what are you doing with Major Schmidt?" That caught his attention and he finally deigned to look up at her. Something passed over his face, inscrutable. She had never had trouble reading him before. In fact, she prided herself on being the only person who could always read Bertram. _What happened?_

"You're worried about me," he observed.

"I always worry about you. That man…that man is a monster," she replied with a much force as she dared.

"I know what Major Schmidt is," responded Bertram, "He is an arrogant creature who believes himself to be two steps ahead of those around him. He thinks he is a God among men, and it leads him to underestimate us mere mortals. In short, I can handle him."

Katrin was not so sure about that. That alchemist was seriously creepy, but she decided to let it pass. Instead, she pressed Bertram, "I never doubted that, Sir. What I more meant was what exactly do you want from him?"

"Oh that," Bertram said with a grimace, "I suppose you wouldn't know much about him. He spent most of his time conducting research before he went to prison. The solitary type." That did not exactly surprise Katrin. Who would _want_ to be around that maniac?

Bertram continued, "Do you know why he was sent to prison?"

"No Sir," she answered honestly.

"Illegal experiments on human subjects for one," he said in a low voice. "In his heyday he was known as the Binding Alchemist, and he walked the narrow edge of Human Transmutation." Katrin shivered at that, remembering how the alchemist had grinned when speaking of the Truth. "His specialty," Bertram continued, "was separating the three aspects of a living being, and binding them to different vessels."

"I don't understand, Sir,"

"Yes, it is extremely complicated. Alchemists, like you heard him say last week, believe in the power of the number three. They believe they can divide a human being into three parts, body mind and soul. Major Schmidt could break apart that connection, putting a soul in in a different body for example."

"That's awful," Katrin whispered.

"Yes well," Bertram said, his own face scrunched up in disgust, "He was only supposed to experiment on creatures without complex souls, animals. Adding a human soul in the equation adds an exponential need for energy, energy he was accused of stealing from prisoners with life sentences in the very place he is now locked up."

Katrin gasped at hearing that, thinking of all the rumors she had heard about West City prison. _They were true._ "Then forgive me for asking sir, but what the hell could you want with someone like that?"

"Alchemy is a science that corrupts. Alchemists are dangerous creatures that need to be controlled to prevent atrocities like the Major Schmidt and the Promised Day incident from ever happening again." His fists clenched, and he said forcefully, "Think about it, Katrin. Alchemists almost killed every single person in the Country in the span of a few minutes. They plotted it for years with no one the wiser. _Every single human being! _Fifty million people. And it only failed, if Schmidt is to be believed, because Edward Elric backed out at the last second."

He finally relaxed back in his seat, smiling at Katrin through the rearview mirror, as she pulled into the Prison complex, waving to the gate guards.

He spoke again, calmer, "It isn't as simple, as killing them all for treason or registering them all to keep track of them. The state alchemists have too much power. They've convinced the nation and the Brass that we need them to defend the country, and in a way they're right. What we need is a solution that controls alchemist's actions without taking away their abilities. I've been researching for three years now, which is more difficult than it sounds-,"

"They write their notes in code," she interrupted, giving him a look to remind him that she had indeed been watching him pour his heart into this research for the last three years.

"Yes," he said with a swallow, "And I broke the code on the Binding Alchemist's research. In the years before the Promised Day incident, he became interested in what he called the Gate of Truth, how that applied to his method of binding, and how it affected a person's alchemy. He was especially interested in the Fullmetal's technique of circleless alchemy, and he was commissioned to research ways to control alchemists, to have command of when and how they could perform transmutations. Bradley himself authorized Schmidt and he specifically mentioned the Flame and Fullmetal. "

Katrin had parked long ago and they were sitting in the car without exiting. Now, Bertram suddenly made to stand up, popping the door handle with a clank. He turned back, putting his head through the open door and said, "Bradley had something remarkable planned! Imagine that you could bind an alchemist to someone else, forcing their alchemy to go through this other person before they were able to use it. This wouldn't be necessary with your everyday crack alchemist, but think of someone like the Flame Alchemist, Someone who could leave a town in ashes in minutes. That kind of power shouldn't be left up to one person's mental stability. Think of how many people we would be protecting if we actually accomplished that. It would be foolproof, more than a law; it would be bound to their very ability. _That_ is what I'm doing with the Binding Alchemist." He then slammed the door with a kind of finality. Katrin sighed and with apprehension climbed out of the car and made to follow her boss.

They walked into the prison, past cell block A-1, down a narrow set of stone stairs into a damp hallway. The guard was explaining, "This part of the prison used to be a storage facility, but over the years they built it out and added these chambers, totally underground-," He was babbling and giving her doe eyed looks. Even his strides were a bit shaky. She wondered how many women needed escorting around the prison. _Must be his lucky day_. He opened one door to reveal Major Schmidt. Katrin could not help but gasp. The prisoner was sitting calmly at a wooden table, eating was looked like roast chicken. He was still bound, but the chains were much looser, and he had the kempt look of someone who had recently washed.

Schmidt made an exaggerated motion, finishing his swallow and waving his fork. "Why, it's the good Councilor and his dutiful Secretary. How quaint." He grinned widely and she could see bits of food in his teeth. She had forgotten how terribly piercing his voice was.

Bertram was brisk. "Get up Schmidt," he said, "We have work to do. It's time for you to earn you cell promotion." At that, Schmidt gave a mock little bow and held his hands out to have his chains released from the table. Bertram then turned to Katrin directing her gaze pointedly to Schmidt.

She groaned inwardly and watched as Bertram purposely walked much further ahead of them, visibly out of earshot from Katrin and Schmidt. She turned to face the prisoner only to find her had been leering at her back with that horrible toothy smile.

"Katrin," he started silkily.

"It's Miss Colman to you," she shot back allowing the faintest hint of vulnerability to enter her voice. _Here we go_. The alchemist shifted his stance and smirked.

"You should consider yourself lucky," he said in that same suave condescending tone, "You are about to witness the application of one of the greatest feats of alchemy ever seen." _Is that supposed to impress me? God he is full of himself, though maybe I can use that. He won't like having his intellect challenged. _

Tell me something, Major Schmidt," she said, "If you already succeeded in your method, why do you need to see Edward Elric again? Shouldn't you be able to replicate the results of your own experiment?"

He looked surprised, as if he was revising his opinion about her. _That's right asshole, I'm more than an empty note taker._

He still managed to hold that mocking tone when he answered though, "Because, Miss Colman, I was not the one that damaged Mister Elric. We have yet to discover a method that takes away someone's alchemy without killing them. That in itself is a feat. Plus, we are refining the technique. It's no good to take alchemy away if you cannot give it back. Then poor Mr. Bertram would have no one to protect him from Drachma. It's quite simple."

"Well, simple for me anyway," he added smugly and started walking faster to catch up to Bertram.

They finally reached a cell at the furthest end of the dank underground hallway. She noticed that the door was wooden, just like in the alchemy wing.

"Well here is your Fullmetal," Bertram said, gesturing to the back of the cell. The former alchemist was tied up in a similar way to Schmidt when the first met him. _But he's not actually an alchemist anymore, right? _

There were yellow bandages around his head and right leg and she could see several cuts and scrapes they hadn't bothered binding up. He hung limp, breathing shallowly.

"Damaged him during the retrieval process, did we?" remarked Schmidt.

"He blew up a sewer line," was all Bertram said.

Schmidt narrowed his eyes, taking in the Fullmetal. Katrin did the same. Being locked away and strapped to the floor made him seem somehow lesser, smaller in stature than even his reputation suggested. Then again, this was the child who singlehandedly wreaked havoc across the East, upending institutions left and right. Katrin nevertheless felt a wave of pity for him. He looked so young.

"We aren't going to hurt him, right?" As soon as it came out of her mouth, she felt horrified. How weak and womanly could you sound? However, neither of the men seemed to notice her blunder, though the Binding Alchemist did answer the question.

"Of course not," Schmidt said cheerily, "This is the great Edward Elric, the insurmountable Fullmetal Alchemist. No. We're going to be great friends."

She might have imagined it, but Katrin was sure she saw Fullmetal's lips curl in distaste. _But that is almost impossible. He's slumped, out cold. Unless he's faking it._

Before she could voice her suspicion, the Binding Alchemist walked up to Edward and leaned over him as if he were going to shake him awake.

In that moment, Edward leaped up, powerful even with a bum leg. Katrin got a flash of his wild, growling face just before it clamped onto Schmidt's collar, narrowly missing his neck. He shook his head like a dog, while the Binding alchemist screamed shrilly. There was the sound of cloth ripping and he thundered back to the floor, hissing. He spit out the chunk of shirt and growled ferociously, "We'll be friends over my dead body, you bastard!"

Edward was breathing heavily in and out through his nose, and he turned his head aside and spat, before clamping his eyes hatefully again on the other alchemist. Schmidt was pale, and Katrin wondered if he felt embarrassed that they had heard him scream so shrilly.

_Well that was something else. _Here she had been thinking of the Fullmetal as a child, and he turned out to be almost more animal than Schmidt. _Well good, they can have each other. _She wanted to mock Schmidt, but that would be like admitting that she needed to, admitting that he bothered her. She wouldn't give in to that.

"Let me out," Ed finally snarled.

"No." This answer came from Bertram who stepped himself between the two prisoners.

"Do you know who I am?" Elric demanded, struggling, "I work for the military and you can't just lock me up! Whose orders were these?" He paused. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?" He gestured with his nose at Bertram and threatened, "Mustang is gonna have a field day when he finds out. Your ass is going to be bacon when this is over."

Bertram interjected, "You have some nerve." Katrin was surprised to hear the level of malice in his cold voice. "But now it's my turn to ask the questions. For example, were you or were you not integral to the success of the Promised Day Plot?"

Ed's face went blank for an instant, and he said incredulously, "_That's_ what this is about? It wasn't like a I had much of freaking choice in the matter, and I'm the one who stopped that freak. But no, just lock me up like some goddamn criminal." He contemplated and added, "Hey, I want a lawyer or something. Don't I get a lawyer?" he continued to pull at the chains as if he didn't realize that the effort was futile.

_He's so childish. _Bertram seemed to think the same thing because he looked at Ed thoughtfully, almost mercifully, and said, "Yes, I can almost believe that you were pressured or manipulated into it. After all Mustang is a dangerously persuasive person." Ed glowered and tried to interrupt but Bertram spoke over him, "But you gave up the right to be a child when you joined the military. Now you can contribute to the welfare of the entire nation. All you need to do is cooperate." He turned to Schmidt, who had been silently laughing in the corner, apparently recovered from his shock. Seeing Bertram's gaze, he straightened up and walked forward.

"Right, Sir," he said, but the echo of the chuckle lingering in his voice made it seem mocking.

They spent several hours in Edward's cell. Schmidt tried to convince Bertram to undo his chains so he could draw an alchemy circle. Bertram wisely refused, and drew it himself. They then spent the next hour attempting to force Edward to touch the circle. He fought like a wild animal, putting up more struggle than seemed possible for being chained up like that. It was difficult because Bertram decided he didn't want guards present, but to get Edward to touch the circle he had to loosen the binds. Even without alchemy, the Fullmetal was deadly, and they would all leave sporting multiple bruises. When Ed finally touched the circle nothing happened, not a spark or a flash of light. Schmidt was the only who found this particularly thought provoking, as he sat back and contemplated for several minutes.

After they left the cell, Bertram leaned against the hallway wall and rubbed the sweat from his eyes, the only sign he had given thus far, of how much interrogating Edward Elric had tired him.

"How the hell does Mustang control that brat," he asked tiredly.

"You know," answered Schmidt, "I heard that the Fullmetal would do anything for his brother. And I mean anything." He smirked as if he deserved a prize.

"That was a rhetorical question," retorted Bertram, but they could all see the cogs going in his brain.

()()()()

Four days later, Roy was standing in a payphone intent on calling his Lieutenant. As he waited on a dial tone, the nippy air whispered across his loose coat, committed to finding every way possible way to send chills though his shirt.

"Lieutenant," he spoke with a crisp voice. "Meet me outside West Prison."

"What did you get from Drake?" Her voice was equally all business, sharp and clear.

"There's been interesting movement inside and out. A shipment of anti-alchemy manacles, ordered personally by the Councilor, plus he has been putting an awful lot of time in the basement, according to the staff sergeant who's a friend. He's suspicious."

He could almost hear the Lieutenant biting her lip. "If your staff sergeant is Wilson, he's suspicious of everyone, but you're right. It doesn't add up."

"Plus," continued Roy, "Wilson thinks there is something going on with the newer staff. He doesn't trust them. The alchemy manacles are one thing, but there's all kinds of stuff moving in and out of the prison. So really, I think it adds up a bit too well. Meet me there in an hour." He snorted but it lacked real mirth.

"I don't think that's a good idea Sir. We should get back-up. It's too easy. Bertram did almost nothing to cover his tracks. We only know it's him because he picked up Ed with _his own_ agents." Roy could hear his Lieutenant shifting around on the other end.

"You know we can't," he answered, "If this turns out to be a wild goose chase, and he's taking the time to check on prisoner mistreatment or some crap, we'll never be able to explain a heavy move out."

"Still," she insisted, "I don't like it. It's not like in Central or East where everyone sees you and Ed as a hero. The military doesn't have the same power here, and Councilor Bertram has nearly everyone in his pocket."

"Which is why we can't make any overt moves, Lieutenant."

Her breathing was heavy and unsure, but her voice never lost that clarity. "Give me an hour, Sir."

"Got it," he replied.

"Wait," she hesitated and said, "Please Roy, be careful."

As he hung up the phone, he whispered to himself, 'I always am.'

()()()()

(Two hours later)

"Okay, our objective is to make it to the basement, see just what the hell Bertram has been doing down there, find Fullmetal, and rescue him, all without being recognized as military." Roy commanded with his best leader voice. Of course, since it was just him and Hawkeye it was a bit wasted, but still, it was helpful to get in the mood.

"Right Sir," Hawkeye replied, with just a touch of smirk that said she thought the blustering was unnecessary. Well, she could laugh all she wanted; he knew she liked his leader voice.

They were standing at the northernmost corner of the prison wall. According to Hawkeye's best calculation, this corner had been built out when the basement was expanded, and therefore the easiest access for what they were attempting. It was dusk, not quite pitch black, so that hopefully any light from alchemy would be less noticeable. She had staked out the guard rounds earlier, and they had a seven minute window before a guard would be within sight distance.

Roy nodded at Hawkeye, and she loosened a bundled black blanket she had been holding and draped it over herself and the Brigadier General, swathing them in darkness.

Roy closed his eyes, focusing on his breath and hands. The Elrics could do this in the blink of an eye, but this kind of alchemy had never been his thing. He stiffened and brought his hands together. As soon as they completed a circle he felt the energy come to life, crackling with red light. He deepened his focus, picturing the array he wanted, one he had looked up earlier today, and gently feed the energy down the imagined lines, picturing every last particle of the wall break apart like wet paper.

He deepened the transmutation, seeing the foundation the cellar area below and breaking through that too. Finally, it ended and Hawkeye clicked on her flashlight. They had a tunnel that opened into the ceiling of what looked like a small storage room. Perfect.

"Good work, Sir," she whispered. She turned around to position the blanket over the hole. It would not hold up to any scrutiny, but they were hoping the growing darkness would cover their tracks. They dropped into the storage room, setting off a cloud of dust.

Coughing, Roy held up a hand and peered down the corridor. Motioning for Hawkeye, he crept slowly into the hallway, glad for the dim lighting. _That's one thing I'll change when I'm Fuhrer. _The security in this place was abysmal. The corridor they were in was lined with various doors, all with storage labels. They opened each one just to be sure. Some were so tiny they could barely be called rooms, and other led into more hallways even longer than the one they were standing in. In several, they found boxes of strange powder.

He was realizing quickly that this place was a lot larger and more complex than they had imagined. Just as he was about to motion to Hawkeye again, the door in front of them creaked.

Roy automatically froze with panic as the door groaned and swung out, almost catching him in the face. At the last second, his mind came to a decision. They were never going to find anything in this place without help, even if it was unwitting. He pushed Hawkeye into a corridor behind them, just as a guard walked out of the door in front, smelling of smoke, whistling to himself. He turned around, caught Roy's eye, a cigarette dropped out of his mouth, and his face took on a dumbfounded expression.

The time it took him to collect himself was hilarious, but eventually he scrambled for his weapon and pointed it at Roy. "St-stop right there!"

Roy sighed and inwardly rolled his eyes. "You got me," he said as he raised his hands.

()()()()

Katrin, Bertram, and Schmidt were once again in Elric's cell when the Guard burst in. Huffing and puffing, he ground to a halt in front of Bertram and saluted.

"I told you to wait outside," started Bertram with a thunderous voice, but he stopped when the guard leaned in to whisper in his ear. "What?!" Bertram narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, thinking hard. He seemed to come to a decision, and barked to Schmidt and Katrin, "Wait here," and followed the guard with quick strides into the hall.

Katrin watched him leave, feeling quite perplexed. Bertram had done nothing but think, talk, and live his plan to use Edward Elric and Major Schmidt for the last week. It would have to be something hugely important to convince him to leave in the middle of an interrogation.

"I wonder what it was?" she murmured softly.

"It's obvious." Turning around, she saw that Edward Elric had lifted his face and was looking at her with burning eyes.

Schmidt just laughed. "Enlighten us then, Fullmetal." Ed's death glare was more habit than force. This week had worn him as much as him interrogators.

"Something important enough for him to abandon his little fantasy world in here? It'd have to be huge," Edward said, reminding her of her previous train of thought. "If I had to guess, it's been what eight days since I've been locked up? Three to miss my check in, one and half for Mustang to get his shit together, one and a half to travel here. Add two for him to screw around in West." He grinned maliciously. "Lady you have the military on your ass. Bout time too."

Schmidt started wordlessly clapping, causing Ed to furiously strain against the wall, when Katrin interrupted them both. "You're wrong. Bertram is doing great things. He's going to revolutionize the military and stop the corruption of Alchemists." She looked at him, then, taking in his ragged appearance. "He told me—told me they probably made you help with the Promised Day. Don't you see? We could stop all that." Her voice fell off as she noticed the way Ed was looking at her.

There was no more malice in his expression. She was met instead with sharp, intelligent eyes, focused on her with such intensity that she felt he could see every atom of her existence, every ounce of her being. They stood that way for several seconds, though it felt like an eternity, and she let out a breath of relief when he finally lowered his gaze.

"I'm sorry," He said, stunning her, "I truly am. But it would never work. Not with alchemy." Schmidt tensed and Katrin suddenly realized that she was alone in the cell with the two prisoners. They are both bound she reminded herself, comfortingly. "Schmidt's been leading you on," stated Ed as Schmidt snarled at him.

"You ingrate-," Schmidt glowered moving closer to Ed threateningly.

"Halt," Katrin commanded him. "I want to hear what he has to say." She faced Schmidt challengingly. For an instant, he looked like he would disobey. There was murder in his eyes, but he took a step back, only saying in an oily voice, "He'll say anything to get out of his cell, miss."

"As would you," she retorted. She turned to the Fullmetal, "Continue."

"Even if his theory is correct, it would take too much energy to perform on one person, let alone al the state alchemists." His eyes hardened and she wondered how she could have ever mistaken him for childish. "They would have to murder people, lady, lots of people. Either your boss man is a lot dumber than he looks, or he knows, and is planning murder on the off chance it will help him control alchemists."

Schmidt's face was closed off, expressionless. She turned to face him, "Is this true, Major?" He did not speak, instead seeming to contemplate something. His eyes flashed, and he smiled, showing her all of his teeth.

"Well, I guess the game is up." He squared his shoulders and cocked his head toward her. Edward was struggling again, shouting something but she did not hear him, she was being held captive by Schmidt's eyes.

"As to answer your question, I think it is a bit of both. Bertram didn't truly understand my notes, and he chose to ignore what he did of the gruesome aspects. After all, stopping the evil alchemists requires some sacrifice, right Katrin." He was moving slowly toward her and despite herself she was backing up.

"It's Miss Colman," she squeaked.

"Right," he drawled. "Right." He rubbed his arm, and for the first time she notice a dark spot staining his gray uniform on his forearm. He followed her gaze and his grin widened.

"As to Edward's assumption," he continued, "Only partially right I'm afraid. Roy Mustang has in fact been in West City for the past two days. He did indeed break in through the north corner wall about forty minutes ago, but no. There will be no rescue here today."

Katrin's brain felt like mush. An inner voice was screaming at her to move, do something, but she was frozen, watching the scene unfold as if it was a film and she was just a viewer.

"Look at her Edward, so confused, like a rabbit."

"Leave her alone!"

Schmidt was standing right in front of her now, his putrid breath in her face. She had backed up against the wall with nowhere else to go. _This is it. I'm going to die_. Their eyes were locked together, as the alchemist slowly reached over her shoulder, his fingers trailing her arm. Suddenly there was a loud click, and her arm was bound in a manacle similar to Edwards. Schmidt leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers. "Thank you Katrin." She whimpered.

"Wilson!" An older man with peppered hair and several stars on his uniform walked through the door. "Keep Bertram busy and bring me Roy Mustang," he ordered. Seeing Wilson's gaze linger on Katrin, he added, "Don't worry about the girl, I've got it covered but treat Mustang with care. He won't make any moves as long as he thinks he has more to gain by complying. Make sure he still thinks that until it's too late." Wilson was still looking at Katrin and she had a small burst of hope that somehow he would save her; that he would betray Schmidt right now.

The man turned away and said, "Got it," and walked out the door.

()()()()


	3. In which Roy and Ed play with Alchemy

**Authors Note:** I plan to update this once a week to a week and half. This chapter took a bit longer, and I've been sick. Therefore, it hasn't been edited has heavily as the first two. All mistakes are mine and all FMA characters are not.

Rated M: For mildly disturbing scenes, the F word, and evil alchemists.

Reviews are welcome and thank you to the person who reviewed this last chapter. I'm so glad my first review was a positive one!

**Chapter 3: In which Roy and Ed take a trip through the Gate of Truth and people die.**

()()()()

"Who are you and how did you break you break in?" The guard leading Roy demanded with a flushed face. _God, he must be stupid not to a least recognize I'm military._ Well good, Roy could use that. He stood up to his full height, turned so that he was barely looking down at the sweating guard, and lifted up one side of his mouth in a well-practiced smirk.

"Pathetic," he spat. "Truly sad. You have to ask why I'm here; that shows a large organizational problem, and I'll definitely have to note that in my report."

"Your report?" the guard repeated.

"Yes, Officer, my report. As in the routine inspection I'm conducting. Unless you believe that I somehow managed to break into this facility, travel all the way down here without being seen, and then decided to wander the corridors." Roy snorted to show just how silly this was, all the while hoping that Hawkeye had abandoned him to travel further down the corridor. _No sense in both of them being caught twenty minutes into the rescue._ Roy added for good measure, "I was being escorted by Sargent Wilson, when he left to conduct business elsewhere."

The guard frowned obviously considering the story. Roy was just about to clap his hands together and risk crisping the guy, when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. The footsteps were quick and purposeful, and as the newcomer turned the corner, Roy saw that it was Wilson himself, both the first and last person Roy wanted to see right now.

"Ah, Wilson, you've finally returned I see," Roy said with a lazy drawl, all the while eyeballing Wilson, begging him to play along.

Wilson looked from Roy to the guard and said stiffly, "Officer Warren, you're free to go. Report back to command. We have new orders."

"Yes sir." The man saluted and turned to Roy, "Sorry about the misunderstanding Sir," and he walked briskly away.

Wilson waited until they could no longer hear the guard's footsteps. His faced relaxed from its gruffness and he exclaimed, "Just what the hell were you thinking Roy? I told you that stuff to keep you away from here, not to go wandering around the basement!"

Hawkeye had not revealed herself once the guard left and Roy took that to mean she had left him when he had first been discovered. He snorted. _She could have at least waited and made sure he was all right._ He vaguely thought he heard a muffled noise from where Warren had gone."Wilson, you know all that did was seal my decision to investigate. I thought you knew me better than that." Roy responded, trying to figure out his next move. Should he go look for Hawkeye, or stay with Wilson?

Wilson was looking thoughtful, and he seemed to come to a decision. An indecipherable emotion flashed across his face. He then said with a jerk of his head, "Well good thing you did come because I know where they're keeping Edward Elric."

Roy felt a warning tremor go up his spine. He hadn't seem Wilson since Ishbal, and people changed, but there was something off about his easy mood swing. He was too nervous, his gaze too unsteady. Wilson had always been a neurotic, negative person, so it was this strange friendliness that laced his usual bad attitude that bothered Roy. Still, Roy could not afford to let go of opportunity to be directly taken to Ed. That was the entire reason he had been seen in the first place. This place was too damn complicated to search without a map and not be caught. Therefore, even if it turned out to be some kind of trap, he would have to risk it.

Seeing that Roy had made up his mind, Wilson started walking and continued to speak. "Ed's not that far away. I found out from a guard who's a friend that he was down here, but it was after we talked." Roy was only half listening to his former war buddy. Instead, he was surreptitiously positioning his lighter in his palm. He no longer needed a transmutation circle, but flame alchemy still needed an initial spark. "The only thing is, I can't figure out why he's here. I mean they say he blew up a sewer line, but if that were the case, they would have contacted the military and kept him with Gen Pop, not all this secret crap," Wilson said with his eyes on Roy.

Roy sensed the danger before it presented itself visually, and he clapped his hands together, calling the circle of alchemy. Even as he felt it travel from the ground up his channels, though his arms, he felt the presence of a stranger power. It slammed against his own, flicking against his arms and through his chest. The alchemic attack paralyzed his limbs, leaving him unable to control his own called upon power and he felt his own alchemy sizzle through his body, tearing at him unable to be released, until it finally faded out, leaving him spent and still trapped by the attack.

He couldn't move a muscle. When he tried all he could achieve was a minor jerk and spasm. His eyes filmed over and his limbs tingled, then he passed out.

()()()()

Tears were leaking from Katrin's eyes, dripping down in her lap, but she did nothing to stop them. Major Schmidt has betrayed the Councilor, or worse, Bertram had betrayed her. Either way she was locked up in a cell with a powerless Fullmetal awaiting Schmidt's return.

The Elric boy pointedly ignored her, choosing instead to work his manacles, pulling at them futilely. It made terrible scraping noises, noises that grated against her mind until she couldn't take it anymore. "Would you quit it!" she finally screamed shrilly. She was vaguely aware that she was taking her fear and frustration out on the helpless prisoner, but she couldn't seem to stop. "Just stop, please. It isn't helping," she said with a sob.

Edward gave her a measured look, but slowly eased himself back down. "At least I'm doing something. Better than sitting there and crying," he retorted. He then promptly pushed himself back up and began twisting his chains again. He was rotated awkwardly, trying to reach the base of the cuff, and when he spoke again it was muffled by his shoulder. "What right do you have, anyway? You sat there day after day, listening to them, knowing what they were planning, watching them experiment with me. You've been in this cell one hour and you're breaking down." His head twisted to face her and he scowled, "It's pathetic." By maneuvering his weight on his bad leg, which must have been very painful, and twisting his back, he was able to reach his hands with his mouth. He then proceeded to gnaw at the cuff, attempting to grasp the screw so he could turn it loose. Katrin could only watch, awed by his determination, but feeling a bit defensive.

"You wouldn't understand," she said quietly.

He let go of his cuff, and turned toward her, moving off his injured leg and easing down. He faced her with glittering piercing eyes. "Then enlighten me," he mocked.

"I've spent my entire adult life working for Councilor Bertram. I—he is a good person. He sets up community programs and recycles for god sake." She wasn't explaining it very well. She kept remembering the way he had looked in the car the day he had explained his plot. _Why didn't I question it more?_

"And the drugs," Edward questioned.

"What do drugs have to do with it? He has people working on the new problem with that drug speed, if that's what you mean. They aren't sure who the supplier is."

"He has people working on it," Ed repeated darkly.

"What are you saying?"

"You really are dense," he said condescendingly. "The stains on the guard's fingers? The lack of rounds and security, yet the high traffic in front of my cell, which is on the way to the storage spaces, right? Something's up here." He was looking at her now, reminding her of a teacher in high school who would wait on the answer to a simple question with the same impatience.

She shot him a disbelieving look and exclaimed, "You're trying to tell me that they are running drugs out of the Prison? Come on, that's crazy," but even as she said the words she was remembering the strange behavior of the man who had escorted her the first day. _What if he wasn't stupid, but instead nervous? And Schmidt to have so much power…_

"Schmidt has to be doing something to get that much power from the guards, like alchemically perfecting the drugs," he continued, echoing her train of thought. He had a bad habit of doing that. "I bet he and your councilor pal are running it together," he said, gauging her reaction with a cocked head.

"Bertram isn't corrupt!" she answered adamantly. She glared at him, suddenly breathing heavily. She was about to keep speaking when Edward tensed in a way that told her he had sensed someone approaching. A second later, she heard the thud of footsteps and the wooden door creaked open.

"Boss says to truss 'im up tighter'n hog," a voice was saying. Two guards were dragging a limp figure through the door. "They got Bertram feelin' important up in command while the Major sets us up down here."

"Yeah," the other replied. Ed was sitting still, straining to see whom they were bringing in. "I wouldn't wanna be these suckers, can't be nothin' good he got planned." They slammed the figure down. The body rolled, and Ed gasped, his face aghast. "Reg'nize your buddy do ya?"

Katrin could finally see him too. He was a soft faced man, with ink black hair that had that perfect manicured length, resting just above his eyes. _Gotta have some Xingese to have hair that dark_. However, he was unnaturally pale and, most disturbingly, there was blood coming out of all the orfaces on his face; his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears. _What the hell could do that? _The man was also, as the first guard had so elegantly put it, trussed up like a pig. Ropes bound his arms to his sides, wrapped around and around again, and his legs were the same.

Ed screamed, "Don't you people understand what you're doing? You'll never get away with this!"

"_Edward_." The voice was weak and trembling but it stopped the Fullmetal cold and he turned his head, "Mustang! What did they do to you? Can you breathe alright?"

The guards looked at each other and then one said, "Ah let 'im talk. They aint got that long till the Major comes back anyway." The first guard turned to walk away and the other followed saying, "Have fun boys," and then they were both gone, leaving the three prisoners in the semi darkness.

"Fullmetal, they have the Binding Alchemist," Roy began to say.

Edward cut him off, "I know. I've been down here for like eight days now." There was a hint of petulance in his voice.

Roy continued with a weak voice, "Didn't expect to deal with a powerful alchemist. They caught me by surprise."

"Yeah no kidding."

At that, Roy tried to glare at his subordinate but it was futile. One, his face was awkwardly squashed against the ground and two, Edward had them all outclassed when it came indignant glares.

"Edward listen," Roy demanded attempting to stay focused, "there isn't any back-up coming. Hawkeye and I broke in on own. Last I saw, she hasn't been caught, but it's only a matter of time."

Ed's face lost its petulance and turned grim. "Right, then what's the plan, Mr. General?"

Katrin could already see the disappointing answer before the Brigadier General lowered his eyes away from Fullmetal. Trails of blood stained his face, but it was his eyes that told her the truth. "I don't know," he said.

Edward didn't answer that at first. He bit his lip. "Right," he finally said quietly. "Well I'll just go back to being the only FUCKING person actually working on our problems." He was shouting now. "Roy, meet Katrin. Excuse me, Miss Colman. You'll get along splendidly; cry your freaking eyes out together!"

At the angle they had dropped him, Roy would have a hard time seeing Katrin but she still felt self-conscious. Not that he bothered really to try to look in her direction. Instead, he decided to yell at Edward.

"Could you be any more of a child!?" he shouted. "I never said I would take this lying down. I _said_ I don't know what to do, Edward. You know, honesty rather than false bravado! If you have some master plan, now would be the time to enlighten us. No?" Roy sneered and Ed looked ready for round two.

"Both of you stop it," she murmured. Even though it was spoken in much softer tones, it rendered them both speechless. Ed jerked towards her and then immediately went back to glaring at Mustang, but Roy's gaze lingered, taking her in. She saw that his eyes were hard and intelligent, but also pained.

_Bertram is terrified of this man, the man that is said to have an ice heart, which he needs to control his powers. They say he has a will of steel to go along with that iced-over heart. Yet here he is shouting, as if he were a child himself, at his subordinate that he supposedly has sole control over as if he were attack dog. Edward, who is turning out to be more like a human typhoon that any attack dog, all rage and blustering and bouts of physical force. _She could see now that Roy Mustang did not truly control Elric's actions._ No, you don't tame a storm and call yourself its master, you can merely hope to direct its force. _

Her own heart felt like it was icing over, and she wondered if she was going into some deeper state of shock or if she was finally gathering her wits. _I am betrayed. _The words echoed across her mind, repeating and turning into a mantra. _I am betrayed. I am betrayed. _She addressed Mustang then, surprised at the clarity in her voice. "Edward tells me there might be a loosed pin in one of his cuffs. We were working on exploiting this when you were brought in."

That might have been stretching it a bit with the 'we', Ed's look told her as much, but she persisted in facing Mustang. She sensed that he would respect her more if she didn't look away while he judged her.

"Major Elric, how is that coming along?" he asked with all the professionalism he could muster.

"Shitastically, sir," Ed said, his anger evident by the sarcasm dripping from his voice. However now that Mustang had seemingly come to a decision to be professional, his voice had become steady and cool, and Fullmetal's attitude glanced off him. _Like ice_.

"Well, we'll just have to come up with another plan, won't we," he said.

()()()()

Roy Mustang was in a lot of physical pain. His head was splitting open, and he could taste blood in his mouth. The way his skin cracked when he moved his face told him that blood was dried in other places as well, that and Fullmetal's face told him about his condition plenty. Edward Elric could not hide an emotion to save his life. The girl, he had noticed immediately. She was his age, obviously in shock, and possessing a soft body. _Must be a pencil pusher that started to know too much. And brave to attempt to cut across Fullmetal's raving._

Roy had not had time to contemplate a new escape plan when they all heard footsteps, accompanied by a voice whose chilling tone was easily recognized. Schmidt walked into the room, with a piece of chalk in his hand, and with guards dragging two more people in chains behind them.

He didn't speak, but rather bent down, frowned at the floor, and then began to sketch a large circle. That occupied him for a moment, until Fullmetal interrupted him.

"If you're going to kill us, I'd rather have it be quick and clean, if it's all the same to you. I'd prefer _not_ to die as fodder in some horrible alchemy experiment." Roy wanted to voice his agreement but he held himself still, instead trying to study the alchemic circle and figure out what it was for.

"Oh don't worry, child," the answer came in soft clipped tones, "You aren't fodder. You're the grand product." He turned to leer at Edward. "In fact, I'm giving you a gift. You should get on your knees and thank me."

Ed's reply was an impressive glob of spit that nevertheless missed Schmidt by a few feet.

Schmidt's mood soured instantaneously and Roy wanted to groan. Now was not the time for theatrics and bravado.

The Major's tone was icy cold and dangerous. "I might have put up with your…ill attempted impudence in the presence of our dear friend Bertram, but I will not now." He cocked his head, eyed locked with Edward. "Not when I'm giving you a second chance, helping you even. Don't you understand? When we are through with this, I will be letting you go. Both of you."

"Bullshit," Ed spat.

"Truth. You serve me more alive at the moment." He laughed and turned to the two extra prisoners who had been deposited near Katrin. "No," he said. "_These_ are the fodder."

He then continued drawing the circle, ignoring Ed's shouts, the prisoners struggles, and Katrin's shrieks. Roy himself was quiet. He had noticed that no mention had been made of Hawkeye and he wondered what that meant. Schmidt stood up and Roy caught a glimpse of the completed circle. It was shaped a bit like the harmony symbol. A large outer circle complete with two inner ones that connected with a swirl that balanced them out. Inside each of the two inside circles were three smaller ones, zigzagged through with complicated designs. Roy had never seen anything like it. He and Ed were dragged to the two inner circles, Ed still trapped on his knees and Roy wrapped in bonds. The three sacrifices, which included Katrin, were placed around the edge of the circle.

Schmidt's grin was going to split his face if it became any wider. Katrin was crying in her place on the edge of the circle and the two others did not look much calmer. Even Ed seemed to be in shock, as he was not struggling against his bonds. It was strange, the position on his knees made Edward seem postulate, as if he were begging for forgiveness, rather than in danger for his life.

"Time to get this show going, don't you think?" No one answered Schmidt, not that it seemed to do anything to his mood. He merely chuckled.

Edward raised his head and spoke then, his voice ringing, "If you do this. I will never forgive you. I will follow you to the ends of the Earth, I _will_ punish you, and then I _will_ kill you."

This did not seem to worry the Major. "Oh don't worry Eddy, I wouldn't expect anything less." He met Edward's snarling eyes and proceeded to plunge his hands into the circle. In his place of honor, Roy felt it come to life. Huge, powerful streams of energy raced through every drawn line, the kind he had only felt once before in his life. _Human Transmutation_.

It came for Edward first, building up around him, jutting columns of alchemy that encircled him. If he hadn't been on his knees before, he would be now. His back was arched up in resistance to the power seeking an outlet through him, and he was screaming shrilly. It all plunged into his chest, lighting his face in stark contrast. Roy watch as lines began to etch themselves into Edwards stomach, burning the flesh.

Roy heard a high whine and suddenly realized that the lines were gathering power around him as well, reaching for the ceiling, just as they had for Edward. _Oh god, it's coming for me too_. This time he could feel it for himself, rather than see it happening to Edward. When the power rushed into his chest, he felt he was being split apart, his body broken down into pieces. Every muscle, every atom was on fire, shrieking in protest. He was sure he had partially passed out, but then the etching started and he knew a new level of agony.

That was when things got a little hazy. There was a thunderous sound that Roy would have recognized as gunfire anywhere, and he saw the Major fall from the circle. This caused chaos in the lines of power. Roy got a glimpse of Riza as she barreled into Katrin, pulling the girl away from the alchemy circle just as the lines reached for them. He wanted to scream at them, that the circle would devour Riza too, but they were saved by Edward, who now had his hands on the circle, replacing the Major. Through his haze, Roy was astonished. Edward's face was stretched in a grimace as he struggled to call the power back to himself. _But he couldn't. Ed shouldn't be able to do anything with the alchemy. _

"Mustang, help me!" Roy realized that Edward was calling desperately to him and that the rope that had bound him was burned away along with the front of his shirt. The alchemy was tearing at them, out of control, licking at the fragile edges of the circle in an attempt to escape. If it did, then it would blow them all to high heaven with a terrible rebound.

Realizing this, Roy slapped his hands on the circle as well, and felt an immediate connection with it. He could sense it drawing to Edward, but the movement was strange. Alchemy always took the past of least resistance, but he could feel it moving through Roy's part of the circle, detouring before it obeyed Edward and channeled through him. No wonder Ed was having so much trouble bringing it back under control.

"Let me lend you a hand, Fullmetal," Roy called, harkening back to earlier times. Edward didn't bother to look up at him, but yelled, "Just hurry the fuck up, Roy. I'm about to drop it all!"

Roy frowned. The outer circle was supposed to call the power and contain it. The smaller circles inside were for stabilization, a second outlet for the extra power to feed through. To bleed out the power it should be simple to feed it through those circles until it stabilized, but Schmidt had made that impossible. Instead of using the circles how they were intended, they were acting more like miniature transmutations themselves. The more power he feed to them, the more the transmutation accelerated and the faster it destabilized.

"Goddammit, how are we supposed to fix this, Ed?" Roy cried desperately.

Edward jerked as a particularly large whip of power lashed at him. "You idiot, feed it through yourself!"

That almost made Roy lose his concentration and hold on the alchemy all together. To feed it through himself would have been what he would have done with lesser circles like his basic flame alchemy. It was a good strategy for small transmutations. The reason he hadn't considered it was that if larger, more powerful transmutations needed more energy than could be taken from the earth, the transmutation would take it from the alchemist instead, resulting in a rebound that would tear at one's flesh. Edward had experienced it when his failed human transmutation had rebounded on him and his brother. Alchemists experienced it when they did not draw a transmutation properly and called more power than the circle could hold. Ed was telling him to sacrifice himself, rather than attempt to use the stabilization circles.

"Just do it!" Ed screamed.

"Urg." If they didn't control this transmutation soon, it _would_ rebound, regardless of whether they feed it properly through the inside circles or not. It had lost its stabilization the instant Schmidt had dropped it, and an uncontrolled rebound would attack everyone in the room. To focus it on himself would keep the rebound trapped with him and Edward rather than the other people.

When Roy started feeding it through himself, something clicked and the alchemy stopped attempting to escape the boundary. Instead, it started eating at him, pulling at his flesh and breaking it down. It was horrifying. Roy's entire body was broken down, and his last thought was that he was going to kill Edward for pulling him into this.

()()()()

The first thing Roy was aware of was the sound of crying. It was a broken, terrible sound, and as soon as Roy realized that, he also understood that it was Edward he was hearing. Ed was making those agonized noises. He felt he should seek Ed out and comfort him, but the world was empty, an endless white plain, and his head was behaving a bit sluggishly.

"Fullmetal," he called out hesitantly. He looked down at himself and was surprised at what he saw. He was naked, but there was a horrible mark on his stomach, stretching from his navel to just under his breast. It was a circle, etched into his skin as if with a knife, crisscrossed with lines, and dripping blood.

Roy was interrupted from his self-examination by a strange noise. [Please, you can't do this!] The voice was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was in his head but he could also physically hear it. And it was most definitely Edward.

[I didn't mean to. Please punish me, just don't take it out on him- ,] The sob echoed across everything and nothing, and Roy was terrified now. Edward was many things, but it took a lot to make him beg. Roy could not even remember a time he had heard him do so. Frantically staring around, Roy tried to make out anything in the void.

"Edward!" he cried again.

"Roy." The voice called back, though it was quiet and this time merely physical. Roy jerked around, following his ears, and saw that Ed was on his knees behind Roy, facing away from him.

"There you are," Roy said as gently as he could. He moved slowly around to face Edward. Ed was still on his knees, naked just like the Brigadier General. All of his bandages were missing, and Roy could see a gash on his forehead, where a mass of dried blood had matted in his hair. His flesh leg was not much better off. The break in the thigh was visible, along with severe bruising on his knee. Even Ed's automail looked out of shape, as it hadn't been oiled in almost a week. However, the worst was his chest. It was the same as Roy's, bleeding and raw.

"Ed, say something to me, please." Roy was afraid to touch him, so he knelt in front of him instead. "Please."

Edward looked up at that, his eyes empty and haunted. "Mustang," he whispered.

"Yeah I'm here, you idiot."

"No, Mustang. You don't understand. The whole time, you never understood." Ed was shaking and his voice dropped off. He tried to turn away, but Roy clasped him by the chin, and drew his eyes back to his fellow alchemist.

"Then explain it, Edward. Tell me what' s wrong!" Roy said forcefully.

Ed hesitated, and his one word answer was not what Roy expected.

"Alphonse."

That took Roy aback, and he was about to question Ed further when they were interrupted.

[That's right Edward Elric.] This voice had the same strange quality as Ed's had before Roy had found him.

Edward's reaction was to quiver, and cast his gaze around frantically. Roy followed his gaze, and they both saw the white figure standing before them, still and unnatural. _The Truth. God._

[You haven't honored the terms of our bargain, Edward.] It said, its' voice echoing judgmentally. Ed was crying now, though furiously trying not to. He made to stand up, jerking a bit as the weight hit his bad leg. _That's more like the Ed I know. _Roy also moved, standing close to Edward in a defensive position. He cast his arm protectively in front of Edward, aware that Ed wasn't in the best shape at the moment, and addressed the Being, "And just what bargain was this?"

The Truth faced him, as much as a being without eyes could, and it laughed, switching back to the normal audible way of speaking. "Roy Mustang, it's been a while. I hope you have enjoyed my gift." It smirked and Roy scowled.

"I've had about all the gifts I want for one lifetime, actually."

The Truth turned back to Edward and Roy tensed. "You swore to give your gate up in exchange for your brother," It said solemnly.

"Keep it then," Ed gasped. "I don't want this, I never wanted it-,"

He was stopped as the creature suddenly moved forward, its unnatural face directly in front of them. When It spoke again, its voice was thunderous and accusing, and it again echoed through all of their being.

[But that's a lie, Edward Elric. Remember, I am you, just as I am the world. I know. I know you have not learned as you should have. You still covet what was once instead of what is.] It drew back and spoke in steadier tones. "But I will give you what you want Edward Elric. You have not paid for a full transmutation, but I will give you what you _have_ paid. Be grateful I don't ask for completion."

"Alphonse," Edward cried, oblivious to anything else.

The Truth sighed. "Your brother is not a part of this bargain."

Ed nearly collapsed at that, and that was when Roy tried to grab and steady him. His arm brushed against the bleeding wound on Ed's chest and the effect of their touching was instantaneous. The two transmutation circles glowed as a single gate appeared and started to open.

"Have fun," the truth leered, as both Ed and Roy were sucked through to be transported back to the other side.

()()()()

EndNote: Being that this is my first story, I am just now learning that I have a terrible habit of ending on cliffhangers. I promise that the story will level off with the action in a few chapters and I will find a way to suppress my evil tendencies.


	4. In which there is a prison break

**Authors Note:** FMA is still not mine. Also, I hate schedules. I don't know why I gave myself one that I didn't even need, so scratch that Sunday thing. I love this story and I'm not going months without updates or anything crazy. Every week to two weeks is a lot more manageable. :)

**Rated M**: Ed has been locked up for a while and doesn't have any soap for his filthy mouth. Not my fault. Cough.

A 'thank you' to all my reviewers. You make my day with your kind words and encouragement. Special thanks to Aurom ( you know who you are) for inspiring me to follow my dreams and write this story, as corny as that sounds. You have no idea how much that means to me.

To the people who said they have seen a soul bond fic before. I hope I'm doing something different with mine. It will not be: they become bonded, deal with it, fall in love, the end. As much as I love those kinds of stories, this is more plot-oriented. Evil diabolical plans abound. But I love constructive criticism, especially since I'm still new at this, so please let me know if the clichés start having babies and taking over my plot.

**Chapter 4: In which someone finally breaks out of prison.**

()()()()

Roy's eyes were crusted shut, as if he had been asleep for a long period. Awareness came to him with glacial slowness, but the first thing noticed was the smell.

Blood.

It filled up his nose, making him want to choke. Actually, as he was able to focus, he realized it was choking him. There was a mat of hair covering his face, making it hard to see and breath. However, he couldn't figure out why hair would smell like blood, or why there such a heavy weight on his chest, or why his ears were ringing, blocking out all noise.

With huge effort, Roy managed to wrench his eyes open. He was met with a vision of blond hair and a crusty bandage. _How gross_, he thought just as he realized that the owner of the blond hair and bandaged forehead had to be Fullmetal. Edward Elric was sprawled on top of him, unmoving. The next thought Roy had, was that Ed must be dead to put up with such close bodily contact. However, that thought was dispelled as Ed's hair ruffled and a breath of air danced across Roy's neck and face. The boy was breathing, albeit shallowly. Roy sighed in relief.

Sighing turned out to be mistake, as it stretched out Roy's chest. He would have screamed but nothing came out of his mouth other than a small whimper. Still, the pain cleared his mind, and he remembered being carved into by the alchemy, consumed by it, and sent to the other side.

As the ringing in his ears faded, Hawkeye's voice was suddenly audible, fierce and commanding.

"Shooting you again would be better than you deserve, you bastard!" He heard a sharp intake of breath and she said, "You will explain to me what you did to my General and you better hope for your sake that you can reverse it."

Roy knew he should let Riza know he was awake, but he forgot about the thick hair covering his face. The instant he tried to vocalize, a glob of it sank into his mouth, making him sputter.

He was trying to spit Ed's hair back out when he sensed Ed take a large gasp of air and jerk his head. Roy tried to call out to him, to warn Ed not to move too much, but his voice still wasn't working properly, and Ed heaved up with a mighty push.

Edward made a sound that was half groan and half shriek, rolling off Roy as he did so. Roy realized that having fallen on top of each other like that, their wounds had dried a bit, letting the blood clot and stick to both men, and therefore causing it to feel like they were being ripped apart as Ed jerked up.

Edward clutched at his chest, where the blood started flowing freely, and gazed around in bewilderment, half raised up on his elbows. His wide eyes fixed onto Roy, but he didn't speak. He simply stared, gasping for breath.

"Fullmetal, do you remember what happened to us?" Roy asked with a croak.

"I-."

"You obviously have every intention of shooting me as soon as I give you the information you desire, therefore I have no incentive to tell you anything." came Schmidt's voice, cold and somehow still in control even though his transmutation had gone so horribly wrong. The Lieutenant let out a noise of rage.

Ed's eyes narrowed at the sound of that distinctive voice, and they lost their glassy look, becoming dangerous. Both Roy and Ed looked up at the same time to see that Schmidt was standing at the edge of the circle, holding his bleeding shoulder. Riza was near the door, her gun trained on the alchemist, and Katrin was slumped behind her. Strangely, Hawkeye was wearing an ill-fitting guard uniform. Roy supposed that explained where she had gone after she ditched him and how she had avoided being caught. To his horror, dead bodies littered the floor.

Ed snarled and rose unsteadily to his feet, causing both Hawkeye and Schmidt to pause and turn their gazes toward him. Roy contemplated whether he should join his former subordinate but found that his limbs still were not inclined to obey him. How Ed had managed, he had no idea.

Then Ed spoke and Roy knew how. There was a simmering layer of rage in his voice, that had it been directed at him, Roy would have been afraid. Unlike Edward's usual rages, his voice wasn't raised, yet it managed to boom around the cell.

"Good thing I know what you did then," he said looking directly at Schmidt.

"Edward I will handle this," Riza answered firmly. Roy knew she was afraid of what Ed would do with his temper in disarray. They needed to handle this with care.

"Yes, let the grownups handle this, Edward," Schmidt said with glittering eyes.

_Oh God, a blatant attempt to make Fullmetal lose control. _Roy almost rolled his eyes in weariness.

But Edward surprised him. He didn't even blink, only taking the time to shift his weight off his flesh leg.

Schmidt looked from Edward to Hawkeye again and said, "Well, I used Flamel's principle of energy conservation in space-."

"English!" barked Hawkeye.

Edward interrupted them, his voice laced with bitterness, "He put a piece of Mustang inside me, that English enough?"

Everyone but Schmidt felt their mouth's drop open, including Roy.

"That's a very simple way to put it, Fullmetal," Schmidt said as he turned to face Ed with a calculating look.

"Yeah, well, I think you should just shoot him and be done with it."

Before either Riza or Schmidt could answer that, Roy finally compelled his voice to work. "No!"

He probably could have forced his body up as Edward had, but he decided to save his energy.

"Major Schmidt, what could you possibly hope to gain with this move?" Roy asked as calmly as he could manage. Inside he was seething almost as much as Edward.

_A piece of me inside Fullmetal? How the hell does that even work?_

"What do I wish to accomplish? Well, it could be that I did it simply because I could. I was bored being locked up here all day, as I'm sure the Fullmetal can attest to." Schmidt turned to look at Edward who hissed. "I wanted to take alchemy to a new level as it were."

Before Ed could move, Roy who was still perched on the floor said firmly, "I don't believe you."

Roy's brain was working overtime. _Actually, I bet it's at least partially true. This entire time Schmidt has been taunting Edward, playing with him. At least part of this has to revolve around his interest in Edward Elric. But, if all he really wanted was to experiment on Ed, then he wouldn't have made it so easy for me to find him, knowing I would bring the brass on him._ It was hard to think though, with his chest bleeding and his head pounding out a painful rhythm.

It didn't help that Edward's body in front of him was a frightening visual representation of what was happening to Roy himself. Blood dripped from raw, red lines, painting streaks down Edward's exposed chest and torn garments. Ignoring the phenomenon, Ed was forcing all of his energy into tearing Schmidt down with his glare alone, not that Schmidt seemed intimidated.

The Major narrowed his eyes. "Or maybe I understand that no matter what happens here, good Mr. Bertram will manage to blame it on you." He laughed, tauntingly. "Oh how he fears you, Flame Alchemist, how he'd love to bring you down to the dog-like state you pretend to be in. Maybe Bertram needed a distraction, and your headlong rush to protect one of your own provided the means for a ultimate one." He paused and then said with a vaguely conspiratorial tone, "I might even be perfectly willing to let you _escape_ here, and watch Bertram go play fetch."

Hawkeye interrupted. "Whether we escape or not has little bearing on whether I shoot you." It was obvious she was still primarily concerned with what had happened to the Brigadier General during the transmutation.

Schmidt rolled his eyes. "Well you've already done that; One." He gave her a withering look. "Two; what stops you from killing me is my end game. My contingency plans. You really don't want to set those in motion."

"Really?" Hawkeye cocked her gun.

"Really," Schmidt answered. "You see, my men have certain orders, damage control orders." He continued as he pressed into his makeshift bandage, "They are to do everything possible to hide this operation. That includes killing a lot of people of course."

He faced Edward's blazing eyes and said, "Your brother screamed for you when we broke his arms. _Such fragile bones_."

That broke Edward's control. He screamed and launched himself at Schmidt, only to topple over as his leg gave out.

Ed struggled on the floor and hollered, "You fucker, you think I'll ever let you live after this. Contingency plans!? you're only contingency plan should be what you say to God, because I'm about to give you a face to face fucking meeting. How's that for a gift?!"

"And Alphonse _will_ die. Painfully."

That made Ed pause.

"Where is he?" He looked murderous, like he was going to strangle the answer right out of Schmidt's neck. It turned out however, that he didn't need to, as Schmidt was more than willing to tell him.

"25 Fichten Street, apartment 14, North City."

Ed just stared for a moment in disbelief, then immediately continued. "Yeah right."

"It's the truth. Go rescue your brother. Hope that I don't see any full military invasions of West City, before you find him though. Then you might not like what you find." He smirked.

"Fetch," murmured Roy with understanding .

Schmidt looked down at him, "Precisely."

()()()()

Bernhard Bertram was sitting at a mahogany desk, tapping his fingers ominously and glaring that man standing in front of him. The Warden with his patchy, receding hairline smiled thinly, to which Bertram did not respond in kind. His smile fading, the Warden turned to whisper to two men who had appeared in front of the office door. Bertram caught a few words, mostly involving Mustang and fire.

"If anything happens to my Secretary, I will hold you personally responsible," Bertram said coldly, as the Warden faced him again.

Bertram was the reason the Warden had his job in the first place, making that not an idle threat. The Councilor kept a blind eye to the activities of the prison staff in exchange for favors. That was something he had not informed his Secretary of, nor anyone involved in his intelligence group. He considered what went on in the prison a bit of a side project. The drugs were a necessary price to pay for the freedom to conduct experiments on prisoners and for access to information. He sighed to himself. Katrin held such a naïve view of the world, even though she had seen her share of hardships, and he could not bear to let her down by allowing her to find out that he was involved in things that were not so black and white.

Glaring imperiously at the Warden, Bertram continued, "You obviously cannot handle the responsibility bestowed upon you, and if you don't control this situation, I will find someone who can." He bent down to examine a few papers he had brought with him; thereby missing the way the Warden twitched his mouth and rolled his eyes.

Bertram frowned and chewed on his pencil. Roy Mustang was somewhere in the prison. Alone, if the reports were accurate, and Katrin was still in Elric's cell along with Major Schmidt. There was no doubt in Bertram's mind that Mustang was here for his former subordinate, and that he would not hesitate to harm Katrin if she were in the way.

The Warden spoke suddenly. "This is a facility specialized in neutralizing the threat of alchemists. My men are trained in that regard, and we have the advantage of numbers. You have nothing to worry about."

Bertram thought idly about smacking him. The man's intelligence had obviously not played enough of a role when he had appointed him. That mistake would not be made again.

They were both sitting in the central office of the prison. Two guards were stationed at the door where the Warden was giving orders for the capture of the Flame Alchemist. Most upsettingly for the Councilor, the Warden had deemed the threat too high and refused Bertram's demand to go back for Katrin and the Major. Bertram had seen the Warden's point that the men stationed here had more military experience than him, therefore making sense that he stay out of the way, but he still felt tricked into being separated from the others still in the cell. Being trapped in the office while the Warden made a mess of things galled him.

"You're a fool if you think numbers will help you when the Flame Alchemist comes calling," Bertram said darkly. The Warden made a face at that. They sat in silence for a few more moments until Bertram interrupted it.

"A circle within a circle," Bertram said abruptly, staring at his paper.

"Excuse me?"

"In alchemy. A circle within a circle. Used to stabilize and control a powerful transmutation."

"I wouldn't know," the Warden responded with a touch of annoyance.

"Hmn."

_The circle within the circle_. It was one of the keys to unlocking Schmidt's research. He had always assumed with his knowledge of what Schmidt had been commissioned to do, that the circle controlling the more powerful transmutation was a metaphor for an alchemic procedure that would control a powerful alchemist. He had staked his entire endeavor with Schmidt on that assumption.

It was nagging him though, the idea of circles. He was missing something; it had to do with the way the Binding Alchemist had laughed at him. The experiment with Edward was obviously over, and Mustang would come for his ass if he were allowed to escape the prison. Bertram's plans were coming undone, which meant he needed to think and reevaluate.

"Hmn," he repeated with the pencil still in his mouth.

The Warden did not respond.

Bertram felt the desk shake and saw dust fall from the ceiling.

"What the hell was that?"

"The Warden grabbed his walkie-talkie and shouted into it.

"I have no idea, Wilson, do you copy?"

The answer came in between static. "Sir, we lost him...Mustang escaped." Bertram felt his breathing stop. However the voice continued, "The...bodies, everywhere...the Secretary."

Bertram grabbed the walkie-talkie out of the Warden's hands, and shouted desperately, "What about Katrin? What happened to my Secretary?"

For a long moment there was only static, then the answer came, "They have her. They took her with them." Bertram felt a chill wash over him. They had his Katrin. _Those bastards_.

"I've got the Major. They shot him...Twice," Wilson's voice continued, oblivious to Bertram's turmoil. He couldn't think about the Major, who had been stupid enough to let Mustang escape, not when they had Katrin. The Major could rot down there for all he cared.

Bertram turned to the Warden, "I'll need a police investigation team here now to ID the bodies."

The Warden looked at him incredulously, "We can't do that. Are you crazy? Think of what they would find."

Bertram wanted to yell at him that none of this mattered, but he held still. The Warden was right. An investigation into the prison would only harm Bertram's power, and give the military the upper hand.

"Fine," he said. He thought for a moment and then continued, "I have a friend in the police department. I can get her to quarantine the city if I have to. I have _my own_ men to send after him." Bertram's glare told the Warden just what he thought of the quality of his men. Bertram twisted his pencil and added, "Mustang has escaped. If we don't cut him off from the military, make him an obvious fugitive, he will sic the Brass on us. We need to prevent that."

"Yes, sir."

"You need to cover up the operations here regardless. We cannot prevent an investigation once the murders come out, and if we don't blame it on the Brigadier General first and control the situation, rest assured he will blame us and use that." The Warden nodded.

"Lastly, it's paramount we find him before anyone else."

"Hmn, I know you have your own team, but I have some people with certain skills you might be interested in."

Bertram considered it for a moment, still contemplating the utter fuck up that the day had been. "Do it. It's your chance to redeem yourself."

()()()()

"I hope it was worth it, saving Miss Katrin," Schmidt was saying to Edward.

Ed's look hardened. "It's always worth it."

Roy had had about enough of being this man's victim and listening to him run his arrogant mouth. He wasn't sure what Schmidt meant by saving Katrin, as all he remembered was that the dissolving alchemy would have consumed everyone, not just Katrin. Not only that, be he was sure he could hear voices and footsteps in the hallway.

He barely met Hawkeye's gaze, but it was enough.

Without forewarning, she shot the Major. With a resounding noise, it went through his chest and he crumpled. Roy was already surging to his feet, glad that his body was finally functioning.

To his amazement, Hawkeye sprinted towards him with a packet of crumpled matches in her hand. As she handed them over, she told Roy with a small smirk, "Courtesy of the guy whose smoke-break you ruined."

"Uniform too?" he asked.

"Yep."

He took a good look at the matches, deemed them worthy, clapped his hands, and scraped one across the matchbox.

A satisfying wall of flame arced down the hallway accompanied by the sound of shrieks.

"That'll slow them down for a while," commented Mustang, as he turned to face the greater problem of how to get the hell out of the prison. His gaze met Edward's, who was being helped up by Katrin of all people. For a small moment, Roy felt a wave of panic that he would not be able to tunnel them out, in front of the great Fullmetal of all people. However, there was no judgment in Edwards look, and Roy finally felt his mind settle into the icy calm that he was famous for.

All external distractions fell away. Riza was shooting her gun down the charred hallway but it didn't matter. Ed was cursing, arguing with the Secretary, and groaning could be heard from the Major's general area, but nothing shattered his focus.

He clapped his arms together, once again seeking the familiar feel of his alchemy, putting all of his focus into it. However, as soon as he deepened his focus it became obvious that something was very wrong. He hadn't noticed with his quick transmutation before, but the energy wasn't flowing the way it should have. Roy frowned, feeling immensely disturbed and starting to panic again when Edward spoke.

"Hurry the hell up, Mustang!"

"Maybe if you'd stop distracting me-."

However, that proved impossible, because as soon as he turned his attention to Edward, it became obvious that Ed was fundamental to why his transmutation wasn't functioning properly.

"Edward what is-," Roy started, but he was interrupted by the former subordinate, who swore and pushed himself next to Roy, shrugging off Katrin and clapping his own hands together. Roy watched in bewilderment as a tunnel formed, with clean smooth walls. It extended with pulses of blue light until he could no longer see the end.

In shock, Roy met Edward's eyes as he turned back from the transmutation. They were hard and closed off. Roy opened his mouth, ready to demand an explanation but Ed moved before he could, twisting back to face Schmidt who was lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. The man was conscience, his face pinched in pain.

Riza backed up until she was in front of the tunnel as well. As she reloaded her gun, she whispered to Roy, "If it hasn't killed him yet, they'll be able to save him after we leave." Roy heard the unspoken question behind the words.

So did Edward, who immediately cried, "No. He said he'd murder Al if we kill him." He shot an accusing look at Mustang.

Roy was in a dilemma. They could permanently end the man's plans right here. Taking the risk of harming Alphonse was in the grand scheme a small one, and he should be willing to take it. A long time ago, he wouldn't have hesitated, but that was before he understood that some decisions had far greater ramifications than their mere outcomes. Broken thoughts and images flitted through his head-

_A vision of two little boys who refused to endanger any more souls on their quest for atonement. _

_Ed's expression as he shouted, "No," while facing a monster and clutching another in his hand. _

_Whispered words on an empty battlefield turned graveyard. 'So there can be no more Flame Alchemists._

"Leave him," Roy said and he walked into the tunnel, stopping only to offer the crippled Ed his shoulder.


	5. In which there is aggressive 'talking'

**Authors Note: **I was going to post this a week ago, but I keep reading others people's fanfiction instead of writing my own.

**Rated M: **For cursing. When Ed stops, Roy starts. Also scene involving torture and death.

**Trigger warning****: Scene involving torture and death. See above. I don't think it's bad, but everyone has their own comfort level.

Plus, my idea of bad is twisted as, and this is true, my father's life dream was to be a zombie movie director before he was bogged down with pesky children. I grew up watching horror movies instead of Disney channel. So yeah.

**Chapter 5: In which Katrin has an inner crisis, Roy plays with cigarettes, and Ed fails to wash his hair.**

()()()()

Katrin was in shock. Her mind was working like a sluggishly moving river, stopped up with debris. _What have I done?_ That thought swirled around. She had spent her entire adult life working for Bertram. The thought that he was running or even involved with a multi-level drug operation was ludicrous. This man, when they had first started working together, lacked the people skills to get through a dinner without offending at least two people. He was too direct and abrasive in conversation to be any good at public office. The fact that he was the most powerful person in West City, she attributed largely to her influence. But then again, he ran the largest spying operation in the country outside the military. What he lacked in conversational skill he made for in planning and scheming. Drug operations certainly took a lot of scheming, especially if one was going to keep it from one's Secretary. Still, he _couldn't_ have betrayed her.

And Roy Mustang? Bertram hated that man. He mistrusted all alchemists, but the Flame Alchemist was the one with the ambition and charisma to do actual damage. Even so, here she was, helping the enemy. She supposed she could always say that she was simply trying to get inside information, but that would be a lie. Because the truth was that Bertram had sought Schmidt out, had left her with him, and she had almost been murdered in a terrifying alchemy experiment. The truth was that Hawkeye and the Flame had rescued her, not Bertram.

With the Fullmetal, they escaped the prison easily. Every time the tunnel needed expanding, he did so without comment, clapping his hands together with gusto, and every time, the Flame's jaw clenched, but he held his tongue.

In heavy, late night darkness they stood in front of a hovel on the outskirts of the city. West City had an area called Shanty Town, where the poor had spilled out from the confines of the lower city. Mostly it was a vast expanse of ill built shacks with dirt floors and colorful piecemeal ceilings. The sewer system did not extend here and one was lucky if one had access to electricity. Shanty Town was full of Ishvalans, refugees, and criminals. Katrin had never visited this part of the city before.

A scraggly curtain ruffled feebly in the breeze, and she watched as an older man with bright red eyes peeked his head out at the Flame's whispered words. The man looked them all carefully over, lingering on Fullmetal's haggard appearance.

"Mr. Elric," he said with a respectful nod of his head.

"Will you help us?" asked the Flame, drawing the man's attention back to him.

The Ishvalan considered him for a moment and then smiled gently. "Of course, the child of Hohenheim of Light and the Flame are always welcome in the homes of our people."

"Thank you," said Mustang, and to her surprise, he bowed to the man before entering the home.

()()()()

Mustang and Hawkeye left the safe house as soon as they deposited Edward on the sagging couch and rebandaged Roy's wounds. He wanted to ask Ed what he knew about the alchemy, but the boy was dazed and half-unconscious. Knowing that the Binding Alchemist was already moving ahead with whatever plans he had, Roy didn't want to waste time. They had to keep up.

To be honest he wasn't quite sure how they were going to combat this new danger, not with Edward barely able to move and completely distracted by the threat to his brother to boot. Roy himself was not in the best of shape. Moreover, they had a possible hostile tagging along in the form of Katrin Colman. The only person in any real shape to fight was his Lieutenant.

Riza gave Katrin her scary eye, and told her to take care of Edward, with the implication that if she tried to leave they _would_ find her and it would not be pretty. Not that she could have escaped anyway, as the Ishvalan who owned the hovel was plenty capable of keeping an eye on one exhausted and traumatized woman, and a crippled somewhat ex-alchemist.

Keeping the pace slow for his wounds, Roy and Riza walked slowly through empty predawn paths, weaving through the haphazard slums. They had being going for about thirty minutes, when Hawkeye stopped suddenly and said in a voice that allowed for no arguments, "We rest here." Roy decided to save his energy and sat down on a wooden crate, making sure not to bend too much.

He wanted to ask her if she supported his decision to spare the Binding Alchemist. She hadn't said a word about it, and sometimes she was so hard to read, considering he could usually predict her mood better than he could his own. She stood while he sat, mournfully facing the rising sun. Watching the red streaks grow in the sky, he let his mind and body rest for the first time since entering the prison.

Roy observed his lieutenant, as her eyes trailed the brightening colors. The image was marred, however, when he caught her eyes turning in a movement that he automatically copied. They scanned the area for enemies together, and the sunrise lost some of its magic.

"You're awfully reflective this morning, Sir."

He wasn't surprised that she noticed, nor when she turned to face him patiently.

"I was thinking about the sunrise," he answered softly. He paused for a moment and then quoted, "When everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."

"My father said that."

Her father had been a hard man, a man who saw enemies and traitors everywhere. However, he had also understood splendor, and he passed on that understanding to his daughter, along with his research. 'The Devil's work,' he had called it.

Roy frowned, stretching out his legs and wishing they had coffee.

"I suppose this whole thing has made me wonder." He paused, thinking of his next words. "What you would have had, if it weren't for the military. If it weren't for the hate and destruction that this country seems to attract. If it weren't for the monsters."

_So there can be no more Flame Alchemists._

He gazed at her then, looking for the answer to his question in her face, but she was expressionless.

"You sound like Ed," she finally said, her mouth twisting in a small smile. "Guilt isn't becoming on you." She gave him a wry look.

"No?" he laughed, breaking the mood. "I suppose you're right. He was silent again for a moment, but then he said, "Ed is hiding something."

"Yes," she agreed. She gave him her arm and helped pull him up, understanding without being told that he was ready to move on.

Roy was troubled about Edward. The returned alchemy and the statement about 'pieces of Roy' did not bode well. In addition, there was the look that Ed had carried since returning from the Gate, which Roy could have traced in his sleep. It was a look of shame. The expression that had marred Ed's face for years was disconcerting to see once more.

"Wilson's apartment is two blocks over," Hawkeye stated as they padded over a wooden bridge and back into the city proper.

"He's a long time overdue for a visit," Roy said darkly, pulling out a lighter.

()()()()

Edward sat on the rotten sofa, stretched out with his eyes closed. Katrin observed him as his chest trembled with each breath. His stomach was so splotched with dried blood that the carving was no longer discernible. She found it difficult to keep her eyes on him; it was as if someone had taken a butcher knife to his chest, and it tugged at some primal instinct in her to see another person in so much pain.

Instead, she watched the Ishvalan as he laid a kettle over the fire for hot water with slow serene movements.

"How do you know Edward?" she asked curiously, remembering how he had greeted the boy earlier.

The Ishvalan spoke briskly. "I don't." He looked up at her kindly and added, "I knew his father."

She heard the Fullmetal snort, and she turned to see his eyes open and watching her.

"You could have asked me."

"You were a bit out of it."

"Yeah," he said, looking down as his smeared and bloody chest. He cast a glance around the small hut, taking in the Ishvalan and the lack of Mustang and his Lieutenant. The Fullmetal then turned and grinned at her disturbingly. He had a habit of showing all of his teeth in a way that reminded her of Schmidt. Maybe it was an alchemist thing.

He looked at her calculatingly for a moment and then asked with a mocking tone, "You have a deep identity crisis about what you're doing helping the traitors yet?"

She couldn't believe he just asked her that. She glared at him and snapped, forgetting for the moment that his chest was torn up, "Were you born an asshole, or is that a product of a military upbringing?"

He countered, "Were you born a spineless witch who never thinks for herself or is that a product of public office?"

They glared at each other, Edward with his filthy matted hair, and Katrin with her stained business suit. The Ishvalan finally interrupted them by handing Katrin a pile of rags and the kettle of water. "Here," he grunted. She felt a bit confused about what she was supposed to do with it, but he jerked his head toward Edward in an obvious gesture, and she gulped as she realized what he wanted.

He had to be joking. The Fullmetal had been awake for two minutes and they were already snarling at each other. Elric did not like her, nor was she particularly fond of him, and that was that. He had essentially told her that he blamed her, in part, for what happened to him in the prison. Even if she were willing to help him clean himself up, which she wasn't sure she was, he would never accept her help in the first place.

She looked at the Ishvalan frantically and said, "Maybe it would be better if you did it." The man frowned at her, and she could sense his disappointment.

Before she was forced to say something else, Fullmetal interrupted, "Jeez, I don't need help wiping off a bit of blood," and he snatched the rags out of her hand. Feeling extremely awkward, she watched as he dipped the rag in the water and gingerly began to clean his chest.

While that was going on, the Ishvalan turned to work on the fire pit. She watched for a bit, thinking, and a moment of clarity hit her as Edward dabbed fastidiously at his wounds.

She had originally followed Bertram for the idea that he represented, the idea of self-governance, taking power away from the military, and putting it back in the hands of the people. It was painful to think that Bertram may have strayed from that dream, but she couldn't focus on that if she wanted to stay sane. The Bertram she knew would want her to do anything in her power to fight corruption and protect the people, even if it meant going against him to do it.

In that vein, there was one thing she did know. Schmidt had evil plans and he was an immediate threat. Therefore, she should help neutralize that threat, which meant aiding Roy Mustang and his friends. Mustang may be a representation of the corrupt power of the military but at least he wasn't running around murdering people in alchemy experiments. A part of her whispered that Bertram would say Mustang _had_ tried to murder an entire country of people three years ago, but at some point in the last twenty-four hours, she had stopped believing that was the whole truth of the Promised Day incident. She sat for a moment longer, looking at Edward's pinched face.

"I volunteered in a field hospital during the war," she exclaimed suddenly. As soon as it was out of her mouth she wanted to take the words back, but the Ishvalan had already grinned, and Edward was looking at her with an openly curious expression. She was surprised that the hostility had left his face so quickly, but she decided not to question it too much.

"I didn't know that," he responded, cocking his head. She almost laughed at the absurdity. Of course he didn't know that, he knew nothing about her other than that she had helped imprison him. However, that meant she knew nothing about him either, other than how he reacted when imprisoned.

"Well, I really was a glorified office worker. I organized timetables," she admitted.

"Oh."

Plunging ahead, she said, "But, I watched a lot of what the nurses did. I could take a look at your leg."

Looking like he would refuse, he opened his mouth to speak, so she took that option away by grabbing his leg and tearing away the ragged remains of his pants and soiled bandages.

He let out a muffled noise of protest but didn't kick away. Taking that as acquiescence, she examined the lacerations hidden under the wraps a bit more closely, wincing at what she saw.

"That bad huh?" His mouth twitched wryly as she met his gaze.

"Some of these are mildly infected. If we clean them we should be able to combat that."

He jerked when she touched a particularly bruised and sensitive area. "Watch it, dammit." With an offended face, he bristled at her, but she didn't take it seriously. She was slowly learning that the Fullmetal didn't put a lot force behind his snarling bad attitude.

"You curse like a back alley hobo," she admonished, trying to hold him still.

"Military brat," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. He frowned and then added, "Back alley hobo, really?"

"Hmn."

She was thinking about everything she knew about Edward Elric. There were the stories of course, of the great hero of the East. Bertram had always scoffed at these stories. He always said that Mustang probably spread them on purpose to raise his standing as the man in charge of the brat.

Edward Elric joined the army when he was twelve, the youngest person in history to join the alchemy program and attain the rank of Major. He was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel after the Incident, right before he quit in order to travel the world with his brother. He was supposed to be some kind of genius, a prodigy. Put together, that wasn't much, and it didn't cover anything important, like _why_.

"What did that transmutation do?" she demanded, pausing her ministrations to meet his eyes. His expression darkened and he hesitated.

"Not what it was supposed to," was his cryptic answer. He gave her that hard, scrutinizing teacher look and waited for her to answer.

She thought carefully about it, trying to picture exactly what had happened. Hawkeye shot the Major. She remembered how the transmutation went crazy after that. However, if she remembered correctly it wasn't after he fell, but after Hawkeye barreled into-

"The Lieutenant pushed me from the circle," she exclaimed. Fullmetal acknowledged her with a small nod.

"I was fuel." Everyone knew what happened to alchemists who did not give their transmutations enough fuel, whether because they did not draw the circle correctly, or because they could not channel the energy needed. It was partly why the profession was so dangerous and elite. If you did not give enough energy, the transmutation would attack its caster, in what alchemists called a rebound.

"I don't understand though, why didn't it kill you instead of me?" This added a new light to Edward's irritation with her. She had not realized how much he risked in saving her life. Another thought occurred to her. Schmidt's reference now made much more sense. _Was it worth it, saving her? _

Edward answered her in a lecturing tone. "It was a three part transmutation. The third part never happened, which is why it didn't need fuel, but that also means that whatever it intended to do probably won't work as smoothly as if might have." She finished the end of that sentence in her head. _If she had died to complete it_, he meant.

"Wasn't it intended to give you your alchemy back?" she asked. His alchemy had look fairly normal to her, but she wasn't an expert on what normal alchemy should look like.

"Yes," he said curtly.

She waited for him to continue but when he didn't she huffed and said, "And?"

"And what?"

"What happened, or is happening? What were the three parts, especially the last part that never happened?"

"Look, lady this isn't really your business. You never answered my first question. Aren't you going to just run off to precious Bertram as soon as we turn our backs?" His eyes were narrow and hard.

She swallowed but found she couldn't answer him. Her tongue felt thick.

"That's what I thought," he said softly. He turned his head away and they didn't talk as she finished cleaning up his leg.

()()()()

Roy smirked at the man tied up in the chair. The man's head hung limply and he was almost naked. Torn underpants were all that kept his decency aloft.

"Wilson—my—friend."

The man's eyes twitched and slowly came into focus as he seemed to realize his situation. He suddenly jerked on his restraints, watching Roy with wild eyes.

Mustang backhanded him across the face and snarled, "Quit it." Grabbing his own chair, he sat on it backwards, leaning against the spine. He cocked his head, studying his prisoner. Luckily, Hawkeye had known where Wilson lived, and it wasn't terribly far from the safe house. He obviously wasn't making too much money as a corrupt prison guard to be that close to the slums, and he obviously wasn't too smart to come straight home after his disastrous day at work. Ambushing him had been easy.

"You know, speaking of friends, Edward Elric is one of mine. We did work together for three years after all. Kind of like you and me."

The man's answer was muffled by the rag over his mouth.

"What's that now? You really have to speak up." Mustang kicked him hard in the shin, and the whimpering heightened in pitch.

In reality, Mustang was rather uncomfortable. His chest itched and burned, and a headache was building in his left temple. That, added to the lack of sleep, and he was not in a forgiving mood to the person sniveling in front of him. Wilson was everything that Roy hated in a person, and he kept seeing Edward crouched on the ground, his skin torn to shreds, in the worst situation possible, and still begging for the safety of his brother. The character contrast was undeniable.

"Should've seen his knees, Edward's," Roy continued with a deceiving air of nonchalance. His eyes narrowed. "Like someone took a meat grinder to them," he hissed. Leaning forward he locked eyes with Wilson, holding his gaze until Hawkeye's shuffling broke the spell.

She gave Roy a questioning look and he realized that she hadn't actually seen Edward's knees. That had happened beyond the Gate. He shrugged at her, with a 'talk about it later' look, and then went back to glaring at Wilson.

Mustang was trying to go for cold indifference but the hot rage kept bubbling up. Schmidt was one thing, but Wilson had been a friend and Roy took his friendships very seriously. It was frustrating, to have this little control over his anger, to feel the need to punish. Edward was the one who let loose with every emotion. Roy couldn't afford to do so. In terms of the interrogation, it didn't really matter how angry Wilson thought he was, especially if it got him to talk faster, but he knew Hawkeye could tell the difference between feigned intimidation and true rage. And Hawkeye was the person he had to keep reassured here.

Roy stood up and pulled the rag from Wilson's mouth. The man watched him expectantly as if there would be more violence, but Roy sat back down. Hawkeye stood near the door, observing them both with a grim expression.

Cold and to the point, Mustang asked, "So, Wilson, did you go corrupt before or after you left the Military?"

Wilson glowered, twisting uncomfortably in his restraints. Rather than answer the question he asked with a snarl, "You honestly think this can go anywhere? Bertram has everyone who has ever owed him a favor out looking for you. All the manpower of West City and you waltz into the home of one his top supporters?"

Roy and Hawkeye snorted together. "Ooh, top supporter. Didn't realize prison guards had that much to offer public officials. Did you Lieutenant?"

"No sir."

"No sir," Mustang drawled as Wilson desperately cast his gaze around.

"Look man, I didn't think-."

"You didn't think what?" Roy spat. "That I would be alive to come after you?"

"I-," Wilson gulped.

"No," Roy thundered. "You thought after you sold me out that they were going to let me skip on my merry way to the Brass so I could tell them just what you've been up to?!" With a huff he said, "Please—don't insult me. You planned murder, Wilson, and nothing less."

Wilson didn't respond to the accusation.

Ignoring that and changing the topic, Roy demanded, "Why did Schmidt experiment on the Fullmetal and me?" He held his breath expectantly.

Wilson looked a bit confused. "I don't know. That was Bertram."

"You're telling me you're such a big supporter of Bertram that you can't tell me why he would kidnap one of the most prominent figures in the country and experiment on him?" Roy rolled his eyes and Wilson glowered again.

"Look man, All I know is we keep Bertram happy and he ignores us. No one cares what he gets up to. He _asked_ for Schmidt and the Fullmetal."

Mustang considered him for a moment, and then exchanged glances with Hawkeye who nodded almost imperceptibly.

With a clank, Mustang clambered off his chair. He smiled at Wilson and shook his head, 'No I get it. I do." He smiled again reassuringly, and started fumbling with something in his coat pocket that was just out sight for Wilson. "We alchemists, we like to experiment. No hard feelings." He let his hand fall and Wilson saw that it contained a lighter. At that, a slight sheen of sweat started to form on Wilson's forehead.

"Me, for example, I was always interested in burns. Almost everyone knows that there are three degrees of severity." Indifferently, he began to flick the lighter on and off. Wilson watched as the Flame Alchemist's hands caressed the fire gently, his thumb rubbing over the shiny metal of the lighter.

"However, what many people don't know is that the degrees are misleading, at least in terms of pain. It's actually the second-degree burn that is the most painful. You see, third-degree means that the nerves have been burned off." He shrugged. "No nerves, no pain. So I always wondered how bad I could get a second-degree before burning the nerve off." His smile was no longer reassuring. "What do you think Wilson?"

"I think you're as crazy as Schmidt!" Wilson said, as he struggled against his restraints again.

Roy watched him pitilessly. "You know who else I saw struggling like that, recently? The people you burned up like human batteries!"

"You're wrong. I'm not Schmidt! That wasn't my fault." Wilson shouted.

"Quiet," Roy threatened. "No. I could never mistake you for Schmidt. He _is_ batshit crazy, but you—you're just a coward, and in a way that's even worse." He loomed over Wilson.

"You knew it was wrong, and you let it go on anyway. You _are_ responsible."

"So you're going to torture me to death as punishment? What gives you the right?" demanded Wilson.

Roy's answer was to muffle Wilson's mouth again, before stepping back.

The Flame Alchemist lit one of the cigarettes that had still been in Hawkeye's coat pocket. His eyes cold and emotionless, he plunged the burning cigarette into Wilson's chest.

()()()()

Ed was close to chopping off what was left of his hair. Growling with frustration, he tried to reposition himself to where he could dunk his head in the bucket of water without bending his waist. He swerved and held back a screech as he found that this position was no better than the other was.

Goddammit. It wasn't like he could ask Miss Pity Wallow over there for help. She was studiously ignoring him anyway, and the Ishvalan had pissed him off with the comments on his father. With a muttered swear he decided to take a break from his efforts, and began to shuffle back to the couch. Even if it was painful, thinking about hair problems was a lot better than twisting circles in his mind about the alchemy. He glared at his hands, ignoring the temptation to clap them together just to feel the rush of power.

Pity Wallow was sitting on one end of the sagging couch, and with a vindictive smirk, Ed laid himself delicately down on the other end, making as much noise and movement as he could without twisting anything painful. She glared at him but he pretended not to notice. With a yawn, he stretched out both his legs, unsubtly kicking Katrin in the hip with his metal limb.

"Do you mind?" she grimaced.

"Not at all," he said sweetly and kicked her again, grinning when she swore and stood up. The satisfaction of winning that round was only tempered by the alchemy theories racing through his mind. For no matter how he put it off, two people were dead, and it should be three. The transmutation, as incomplete as it was, would still do _something_. The returned ability was proof of that. He just wasn't sure what else was in store, especially when it came to Mustang.

He jumped as a shiver suddenly raced sown his back. It was like an electrical current, hot and tingly. _What the hell was that?_

()()()()

"You're lying, Wilson. Why would you lie to me?" Mustang grabbed Wilson's cheek and squeezed painfully.

Wilson stared at him with wild unfocused eyes. It was like something broke inside of him and suddenly he was sobbing. "They knew, they knew." He let out some garbled noises and said, "But they didn't know I knew. I saw them talking about it, but they don't know. That's good, right? It's what you wanted to know."

"Speak clearly scumbag. What did you see?"

"I heard them talking about a spy," he gasped. "They have a turncoat in your office."

Roy glared, "There is no one in my office who would betray me." He was affronted at the very idea.

"No it's true. They didn't say who. They were bragging, because you're known for having such loyal subordinates. Something about Lieutenant Havoc's reports."

Roy was flabbergasted. Havoc was the last person to betray him. He took a homunculus claw for Roy, and Roy returned the favor by healing him with the last philosopher stone. Havoc was Roy's most trusted subordinate after Hawkeye.

However, most of Havocs reports were not kept in the locked office with the rest of the paperwork. Hawkeye had complained because Havoc's work always stunk to high heaven. There was a special bin in the main office, where everyone had access.

The dots were connecting horrendously because Ed filed no more reports. Which meant Havoc took the brunt of recording his dealings and conversation s with the Elric brothers. He probably hadn't even thought to start a file in Hawkeyes office for them. What would be the purpose? They weren't in the military anymore, they weren't up to illegal things that needed to be hidden.

Everyone cared about the Elrics. Havoc put his Elric reports in the bin, where everyone could see them.

Composing himself a bit, Roy said, "Bit convenient that you know all this without knowing who exactly it was."

"No," Wilson answered desperately. "They wouldn't say names like that. It's bad security."

"But they would discuss spies? Bullshit."

"Please, Bertram is out to weaken the military. He had this whole plan for reinstating the power of the assembly. You're the most prominent member of the military right now. He has to take you down."

"And Schmidt?"

"Schmidt's out for himself."

"Okay Wilson, I believe you that you're telling the truth."

Wilson raised his face hopefully. "Really?"

"No." Roy glared. "It doesn't made sense. Weaken the military. You expose the conspiracies and corruption. You make friends and gather evidence. You don't kidnap people and experiment on them, and don't even get me started on the drugs. That's the craziest thing I've ever heard. Now, what's he up to really?"

Wilson sobbed, "I don't know!"

Roy considered him. There was a spy in Roy's office. Either Havoc, Breda, Fuery, Brosh, or Catalina, his current team, had betrayed him to Bertram. Bertram was a good intelligence operative. Roy had assumed from the get go that that was how he knew so much about them.

A spy.

If that were true, and if it were true that Bertram and his conspirators did not know that Wilson had access to this information, then Mustang had just gained an advantage, one he desperately needed.

He motioned to his Lieutenant, and they stepped out of the room.

"Is there something you would like to say Lieutenant," asked Roy, his voice somewhat harsh.

They were standing in Wilson's kitchen, away from the prisoner. The smell of cigarettes and charred flesh drifting throughout the entire house was difficult to escape, however, here they had a view of Wilson over the island, yet were far enough away to have a bit of privacy.

She met his eyes and her lip curved downwards. "You're going to kill him," she said in a low whisper.

He didn't ask how she was so sure of that, there wasn't any point. She was right of course.

She continued, "I guess I wondered why you didn't kill Schmidt, back at the prison." _The question he had been waiting for her to ask._

Those wide brown eyes gazed at him quizzically. By reading between the lines, he knew she was asking why he had been willing to risk letting an enemy live then, when arguably Schmidt was the much more dangerous person, but not now.

"You know why," he said. _Because Edward had been staring at him with that desperate expression._ Because it would have risked Alphonse, and Roy could never do that in front of Edward.

"Because I'm a fool." His gaze hardened. "You know we can't let him live. He'll go straight to Schmidt or Bertram, and we'll lose our only advantage."

"I know."

He hadn't actually been planning on killing Wilson, but that was before the interrogation had been so successful. By telling them just how Schmidt had come to have such an advantage over Mustang, he had guaranteed that they would kill him to prevent Schmidt from finding out that they knew. It had to be done, yet Mustang couldn't get the sick feeling to leave his chest.

Roy turned his head to face the man bound in the living room. With his head lolling and his chest torn up, he hardly looked better than Mustang. Roy could see even from here, the harsh and unsteadiness of his breathing. _It's only going to get worse, you bastard._

Mustang himself wasn't feeling very good. The list of physical ailments now included strange hot flashes that kept racing up and down his back. The closest he had ever felt to something similar was when they had shot him up with morphine in the hospital. Bizarre, tingling waves of warmth were even more reason to hurry this up and get back so he could talk to Edward.

_I'm about to commit my first intended murder since the war, if you don't count the Homunculi._ This man had chosen his path, and Roy could not allow these people to complete it. Too many people were counting on him. There was too much corruption here and too many monsters.

_I'm sorry Hughes._

"Shoot him." The order was spoken loud enough that Wilson heard it. His head shot up, and he began to sob through the rag in his mouth. Tears leaked from his eyes in thick streaks as he locked gazes with Mustang.

Mustang stared unblinkingly at the man while Hawkeye cocked her gun next to his head and blew his brains out.

()()()()

**Endnote:** Roy is actually quoting Kurt Vonnegut in the second part, but since they don't have Vonnegut in FMA world, I improvised. Also there was a whole conversation between Ed and Roy about the alchemy and some freaky bond stuff that got pushed back to next chapter. This chapter just got too long for me to keep up with.


End file.
